


Destiny (REVISING)

by nyxsomnium



Category: Infinite (Band), SHINee, VIXX
Genre: Angel & Demon Interactions, Fantasy, Gen, Heaven vs Hell, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 88,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxsomnium/pseuds/nyxsomnium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~~ "You made a promise -- a promise you have kept for centuries, a promise I broke within minutes."</p><p>Plagued in constant tragedy, Kim Myungsoo's life has never made much sense to him. He sees no value in his existence, no light at the end of the tunnel. It seems he's willing to try any method as a means to escape it. Beyond the constant night terrors and natural revulsion people seem to experience around him, he knows little about the supernatural power that rests at his fingertips, nor that behind the scenes, he's being supervised by the forces of Heaven and Hell alike.</p><p>And little does he know, that if the self inflicted threats to his own safety continue, they're going to have to physically intervene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story structure

Structure:  
\-- Destiny covers three main story points in all. Heaven, Hell and Earth.  
\-- 'Sections' are primarily educational and there to give a look into how Heaven and Hell primarily operate. Sections will be indicated in chapter title. Following a structure of:-  
1\. Terminology for Heaven/Hell dependent on the section  
2\. Educational information about Heaven and Hell and inhabitants dependent on the section  
3\. A glimpse into what a transition from human to a Heaven or Hell inhabitant is like  
4\. A glimpse back at the Archangels who transitioned from 'human' to Archangel and how they did so / a glimpse back at how present inhabitants of Hell transitioned from human to the creature of Hell that they currently are  
5\. Prologues of the protagonists from Heaven/Hell which will then lead into the main story

Some aspects / characters / plot overlap with 'Follow You Into The Dark', and whilst it's not absolutely necessary that you read that to understand, it has a lot of helpful backstory.


	2. Section One: Terminology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gjcKGrSZ0L8

**Section One:  
Heaven.**

 

 

 **Heaven --** Heaven, or Seven Heavens, are a common religious cosmological/transcendent place from which heavenly beings such as God, Angels, the Djinn and sky deities (Heavenly Father, Heavenly Mother, Son of Heaven) originate, inhabit or are enthroned. 

It is commonly believed that heavenly beings can descend to earth or incarnate and that earthly beings can ascend to Heaven in the afterlife, or even, in exceptional cases, enter Heaven alive. 

Heaven is often described as a 'higher place', the holiest place -- or 'Paradise'. This is a complete contrast to Hell or the Underworld, which are considered to be the 'low places', eternal damnation. Heaven is universally and conditionally accessible to earthly beings in accordance to various standards of divinity, goodness, piety, faith, or other virtues, sometimes even simply by the Will of God.

 

 **Seven Heavens --** is a part of religious cosmology* found in many major religions such as Islam, Judaism, Hinduism and Catholicism.   
_*Religious cosmology:_ a way of explaining the origin, history and evolution of the cosmos or universe based on the religious mythology of a specific tradition. Religious cosmologies usually include an act or process of creation by a creator deity or a larger pantheon. 

 

 **Throne of God** \-- is the reigning center of the sole deity (belief in the existence of one god, or the oneness of God) of the Abrahamic religions: primarily Judaism, Christianity and Islam. The throne is said by various holy books to reside beyond the Seventh Heaven and is called _Araboth_ in Judaism. 

 

 **Transcendence** \-- in philosophy, the adjective _transcendental_  and the noun _transcendence_ convey the basic ground concept from the word's literal meaning of  _climbing_ or  _going beyond,_ albeit with varying connotations in its different historical and cultural stages.

 

 **Incarnation** \-- literally means  _embodied in flesh_ or  _taking on flesh._ It refers to the conception and birth of a sentient creature who is the material manifestation of an entity, god or force whose original nature is immaterial. In its religious context the word is used to mean the descent from Heaven of a god or divine being in human / animal form on earth. 

 

 **Afterlife --** in philosophy, religion, mythology and fiction, the afterlife is the concept of a realm or a realm itself (whether physical or transcendental), in which an essential part of an individual's identity or consciousness continues to reside after the death of the body in the individual's lifetime. According to various ideas of the afterlife, the essential aspect of the individual that lives on after death may be some partial element, or the entire soul of an individual which carries with it and confers personal identity. Belief in an afterlife, which may be naturalistic or supernatural, is in contrast to the belief in oblivion after death. 

In some popular views, this continued existence often takes place in a spiritual realm, and in other popular views, the individual may be reborn into this world and begin the life cycle over again, likely with no memory of what they have done in the past. In this latter view, such rebirths and deaths may take place repeatedly until the individual gains entry to a spiritual realm or Otherworld.

Some belief systems, such as those in the Abrahamic tradition, hold that the dead go to a specific plane of existence after death, as determined by a god, gods or other divine judgment, based on their actions or beliefs during life. In contrast, in systems of reincarnation, such as those in the Dharmic tradition, the nature of the continued existence is determined directly by the actions of the individual in the ended life, rather than through the decision of another being.

 

 **Entering heaven alive** \-- (called 'ascension' by various religions) is a belief held by multiple religions and traditions. Since death is generally considered the normal end to an individual's life on earth and the beginning of the afterlife, entering Heaven without dying first is considered exceptional and usually a sign of God's special recognition of the individual's piety. 

 

 **Paradise** \-- is a religious or metaphysical term for a place in which existence is positive, harmonious and eternal. It is conceptually a counter-image of the supposed miseries of human civilization, and in paradise there is only peace, prosperity and happiness. Paradise is a place of contentment, but it is not necessarily a land of luxury and idleness. Paradise is often described as a 'higher place', and referred to as the 'holiest place', in contrast to the world humans inhabit, and in grave contrast to the underworlds such as Hell. 

 

 **Hell** \-- in many mythological, folklore and religious traditions, Hell is a place of eternal torment in an afterlife, often after resurrection. It is viewed by most Abrahamic traditions as a place of punishment. Religions with a linear divine history often depict hells as endless. Religions with a cyclic history often depict Hell as an intermediary period between incarnations. Typically these traditions locate Hell in another dimension or under the earth's external surface and often include entrances to Hell fro the land of the living. Other afterlife destinations include Heaven, Purgatory. 

Other traditions, which do not conceive of the afterlife as a place of punishment or reward, merely describe Hell as an abode of the dead, a neutral place located under the surface of earth (for example, 'Hades'). Modern understandings of hells often depict them abstractly, as a state of loss rather than as fiery torture literally underground, but this view of the concept of a hell can, in fact, be traced back into the ancient and medieval periods as well. Hell is sometimes portrayed as populated with demons who torment those dwelling there. Many are ruled by a death god such as 'Hades' or the 'Devil'. 

 

 

 

 **Virtues --**  are moral excellence. A virtue is a positive trait or quality deemed to be morally good and thus is valued as a foundation of principle and good moral being. The opposite of virtue is Vice.

 

 **Divinity** \-- in religious terms, divinity is the state of things that come from a supernatural power or deity, such as a god, or spirit beings, and are therefore regarded as sacred and holy. Such things are regarded as 'divine' due to their transcendental origins, or because their attributes or qualities are superior or supreme relative to things of the earth. 

Divine things are regarded as eternal and based in truth, while material things are regarded as ephemeral and based on illusion. Such things that may qualify as 'divine' are apparitions, visions, prophecies, miracles and in some views also the soul, or, more general things like resurrection, immortality, grace and salvation. Otherwise what is or is not divine may be loosely defined, as it is used by different belief systems. 

 

 **Faith** \-- is confidence or trust in a person, thing, deity or in the doctrines of a religion or view (political faith). The word  _faith_ is often used as a synonym for  _hope,_ _trust_ or  _belief._

 

 **Piety** \-- in spiritual terminology, piety is a virtue that can mean religious devotion, spirituality or a combination of both. A common element in most conceptions of piety is humility. 

 

 **Will of God** \-- is the concept of God having a plan for humanity and desiring to see this plan fulfilled. 

 

 **World to Come** \-- are eschatological phrases reflecting the belief that the 'current world' or 'current age' is flawed or cursed and will be replaced in the future by a better world or age of paradise. The concept is related but differs from the concepts of Heaven and the afterlife in that Heaven is another place or state generally seen as above the world, the afterlife is generally an individual's life after death. All of these may also be characterized as otherworlds or possible worlds. 

 

 

 

 **God:** is often conceived as the Supreme Being and principal object of faith. Theologians have ascribed a variety of attributes to the many different conceptions of God. Common among these are 'omniscience' (infinite knowledge), 'omnipotence' (unlimited power), 'omnipresence' (present everywhere), 'omni-benevolence' (perfect goodness), 'divine simplicity' (doctrine of divine simplicity says that God is without parts). 

 

 **Djinn** : or  _Jinn, Genie,_ are spiritual creatures in Islam and Arabic folklore. They are mentioned in the Qur'an and other Islamic texts and are said to inhabit an unseen world in dimensions beyond the visible universe of humans. The Qur'an mentions that the Djinn are made of a smokeless and scorching fire, but also physical in nature -- being able to interact physically with people and objects and likewise be acted upon. Like human beings, the Djinn can also be good, evil or neutrally benevolent and hence have freewill like humans and unlike angels. 

 

 **Sky deities:** in Chinese folk culture 'The Jade Emperor' is the ruler of Heaven and all realms of existence including that of Man and Hell, according to a version of Taoist mythology. He is one of the most important gods of the Chinese traditional religion pantheon. In actual Taoism, the Jade Emperor governs all of the mortals' realm and below, but ranks below the 'Three Pure Ones'. 

 

 **Queen of Heaven:** was a title given to a number of ancient sky goddesses in the ancient Mediterranean and Near East, in particular 'Anat, Isis, Innana, Astarte and Hera'. Elsewhere, Nordic Frigg also bore this title. The title  _Queen of Heaven_ is used by Catholics and Orthodox Christians for 'Mary'. 

 

 **Saint:** a saint is one who has been recognized for having an exceptional degree of holiness, sanctity and virtue. Depending on the religion, saints are recognized either through official church recognition or by popular acclaim. In Christianity, 'saint' has a variety of meanings, depending on its usage and denomination. The original Christian usage referred to any believer who is 'in Christ' and in whom Christ dwells, whether in Heaven or in earth. In Orthodox and Catholic teachings, all Christians in Heaven are considered to be saints, but some are considered to be worthy of higher honor, emulation or veneration, with official church recognition given to some saints through canonization or glorification. 

 

 **Veneration ancestors:** is based on the beliefs that the dead have a continued existence, and may possess the ability to influence the fortune of the living. Some groups venerate their direct, familial ancestors; some faith communities, in particular the Catholic Church, venerate saints as intercessors with God. In some Eastern, African and Afro-Diasporic cultures the goal of ancestor veneration is to ensure the ancestors' continued well-being and positive disposition towards the living, and sometimes to ask for special favors or assistance.  

 

 

 

 ** _ANGELS_** are a supernatural being or spirit often depicted in humanoid form with feathered wings on their backs and halos around their heads, found in various religions and mythologies.

  * Theological study of Angels is known as 'angelology'.
  * The term _Angel_ has also been expanded to various notions of spirits found in many other religious traditions. Other roles of Angels include protecting and guiding human beings, and carrying out God’s tasks.
  * Two practices involving belief of Angels include Zoroastrianism and Abrahamic religions, both in which cite and depict Angels as benevolent celestial beings whom act as intermediaries between Heaven and Earth, sometimes also referred to as 'Guardian spirits' or a 'guiding influence'.



The word  _Angel_  in English is a fusion of the Old English / Germanic word  _engel_  (hard g) and the Old French  _angele_. Both derive from the Latin  _angelus_  which in turn is the Romanization of the ancient Greek  _ἄγγελος_  ( _ángelos_ ), 'messenger', 'envoy', which is related to the Greek verb  _ἀγγέλλω_  ( _angéllō_ ), meaning 'bear a message, announce, bring news of'. 

 

 

 **INDIVIDUAL ANGELS--**  
There are several studies and mythology focused on individual angels.

 

 **MICHAEL** — _The kindness of God._  In Hebrew,  _Michael_  means “who is like God?”  
  
Michael is an Archangel in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic teachings. Roman Catholics, the Eastern Orthodox, Anglicans, and Lutherans refer to him as “Saint Michael the Archangel” and also as “Saint Michael”. 

Michael is mentioned three times in the Book of Daniel, once as a “great prince who stands up for the children of your people”. The idea that Michael was the advocate of the Jews became so prevalent that in spite of the rabbinical prohibition against appealing to Angels as intermediaries between God and his people, Michael came to occupy a certain place in the Jewish liturgy.

In the New Testament Michael leads God’s armies against Satan’s forces in the Book of Revelation, where during the war in Heaven he defeats Satan. Christian sanctuaries to Michael appeared in the 4th century, when he was first seen as a healing Angel, and then over time as a protector and the leader of the army of God against the forces of evil. By the 6th century, devotions to Archangel Michael were widespread both in the Eastern and Western Churches. Over time, teachings on Michael began to vary among Christian denominations.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, and the Old Testament, the prophet Daniel experiences a vision after having undergone a period of fasting. In the vision in Daniel _10:13-21_  an Angel identifies Michael as the protector of Israel. Daniel refers to Michael as a “prince of the first rank”. Later in the vision in Daniel _12:1_  Daniel is informed about the role of Michael during the “Time of the End” when there will be “distress such as has not happened from the beginning of nations” and that:  _"At that time Michael, the great prince who protects your people, will arise."_

In view of this, Michael is seen as playing an important role as the protector of Israel, and later of the Christian Church.

Although the three occurrences of Michael in the Book of Daniel  _10:13, 10:21_ and _12:1_ all refer to the same individual, who acts in similar ways in all three cases, the last one is set at the “end times”, while the first two refer to local time in Persia. These are the only three references to Michael in the Hebrew Bible.

The references to the “captain of the host of the Lord” encountered by Joshua in the early days of his campaigns in the Promised Land (Joshua _5:13-15)_ have at times been interpreted as Michael the Archangel, but there is no theological basis for that assumption, given that Joshua then worshipped this figure, and Angels are not to be worshipped. Some scholars also point that the figure may refer to God himself. In the book of Joshua’s account of the fall of Jericho, Joshua “looked up and saw a man standing in front of him with a drawn sword in his hand”. When the still unaware Joshua asks which side of the fight the Archangel is on, the response was, _"neither… but as commander of the army of the Lord I have now come"._

 

 **GABRIEL** — _Performs acts of justice and power_. In Abrahamic religions Gabriel, whose name translates to  _“God is my strength”_  is an angel who typically serves as a messenger sent from God to certain people.

In the Bible, Gabriel is mentioned in both the Old and New Testament. In the Old Testament, he appeared to the prophet Daniel, delivering explanations of Daniel’s visions (Daniel  _8:15–26, 9:21–27)._ In the Gospel of Luke, Gabriel appeared to Zacharias, and to the virgin Mary foretelling the births of John the Baptist and Jesus, respectively (Luke _1:11–38)_. In the Book of Daniel, he is referred to as “the man Gabriel”, while in the Book of Luke, Gabriel is referred to as “an Angel of the Lord” (Luke _1:11)._ In the Roman Catholic, Anglican, Lutheran, Eastern and Oriental Orthodox churches, the Archangels Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel are also referred to as saints.

In Islam, Gabriel is considered one of the four Archangels whom God sent with his divine message to various prophets, including Muhammad.

 

 **RAPHAEL** — _God’s healing force._  Raphael whose name translates to  _“God heals”_ is an Archangel of Judaism and Christianity, who in the Judeo-Christian tradition performs all manners of healing. In Islam, Raphael is the same as Israfil. Raphael is mentioned in the Book of Tobit, which is accepted as canonical by Catholics, Orthodox, and some Anglo-Catholics, and as useful for public teaching by Lutherans and Anglicans.

Raphael bound Azazel under a desert called Dudael and according to Enoch  _10:4–6:_ _“And again the Lord said to Raphael: ‘Bind Azazel hand and foot, and cast him into the darkness: and make an opening in the desert, which is in Dudael, and cast him therein. And place upon him rough and jagged rocks, and cover him with darkness, and let him abide there for ever, and cover his face that he may not see light. And on the day of the great judgment he shall be cast into the fire.”_

 

 **URIEL** — _The angel who_ _leads us to destiny_ _._ Uriel whose name translates to _“God is my light”_ is one of the Archangels of post-Exilic Rabbinic tradition, and also of certain Christian traditions.

In Christian apocryphal gospels Uriel plays a role, differing between sources, in the rescue of Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist from the Massacre of the Innocents ordered by King Herod. He carries John and his mother Saint Elizabeth to join the Holy Family after their Flight into Egypt. Their reunion is depicted in Leonardo da Vinci’s  _Virgin of the Rocks_.

Uriel is often identified as a cherub and Angel of repentance. He “stands at the Gate of Eden with a fiery sword”, or as the angel who “watches over thunder and terror”. In the  _Apocalypse of Peter_  he appears as the Angel of Repentance, who is graphically represented as being as pitiless as any demon. In the  _Life of Adam and Eve_ , Uriel is regarded as the spirit of the third chapter of Genesis. He is also identified as one of the Angels who helped bury Adam and Abel in Paradise.

Stemming from medieval Jewish mystical traditions, Uriel has also become the Angel of Sunday, the Angel of Poetry, and one of the Holy Sephiroth. Uriel is depicted as the destroyer of the hosts of Sennacherib.

He checked the doors of Egypt for lamb’s blood during the plague. He also holds the key to the Pit during the End Times and led Abraham to the West.

In modern Angelology, Uriel is identified variously as a seraph, cherub, regent of the sun, flame of God, angel of the Divine Presence, presider over Tartarus (Hell), Archangel of salvation, and, in later scriptures, identified with Phanuel “face of God”. He is often depicted carrying a book or a papyrus scroll representing wisdom. Uriel is a patron of the Arts.

In Milton’s  _Paradise Lost_  Book III, Uriel, in charge of the Orb of the Sun, serves as the eyes of God, but unwittingly steers Satan towards the newly created earth. Milton describes him as the “sharpest sighted spirit in all of Heaven”. He is also responsible along with Raphael for defeating Adramelech.

 

 **SAMAEL** — _Angel of death._ Samael whose name translates to  _“The severity of God”_  is an important Archangel is Talmudic and post-Talmudic lore, a figure who is an accuser, seducer and destroyer. He has been regarded as both good and evil. It has been said that he was the Guardian Angel of Esau and a patron of the Roman empire. 

He is considered in legend a member of the heavenly host (with often grim and destructive duties), in the New Testament named Satan and the chief of the evil spirits. One of Samael’s greatest roles in Jewish lore is that of the Angel of Death. He remains one of the Lord’s servants even though he appears to want men to do evil. As a good Angel, Samael resides in the Seventh Heaven, although he is declared to be the chief Angel of the Fifth Heaven.

In Jewish lore, Samael is said to be the Angel of Death, the chief ruler of the Fifth Heaven and one of the seven regents of the world served by two million angels; he resides in the Heaven. 

In  _Sotah_ _10b_ , Samael is Esau’s Guardian Angel, and in the  _Sayings of Rabbi Eliezer_ , he is charged with being the one who tempted Eve, then seduced and impregnated her with Cain. Though some sources identify  _Gadreel_ as the angel that seduced Eve, other Hebrew scholars say that it was Samael who tempted Eve in the guise of the Serpent. Samael is also sometimes identified as being the angelic antagonist who wrestled with Jacob, and also the angel who held back the arm of Abraham as he was about to sacrifice his son.

According to  _The Ascension of Moses_ Samael is also mentioned as being in 7th Heaven: _"In the last heaven Moses saw two angels, each five hundred parasangs in height, forged out of chains of black fire and red fire, the angels Af, “Anger,” and Hemah, “Wrath,” whom God created at the beginning of the world, to execute His will. Moses was disquieted when he looked upon them, but Metatron embraced him, and said, “Moses, Moses, thou favorite of God, fear not, and be not terrified,” and Moses became calm. There was another angel in the seventh heaven, different in appearance from all the others, and of frightful men. His height was so great, it would have taken five hundred years to cover a distance equal to it, and from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet he was studded with glaring eyes, at the sight of which the beholder fell prostrate in awe. “This one,” said Metatron, addressing Moses, “is Samael, who takes the soul away from man.” “Whither goes he now?” asked Moses, and Metatron replied, “To fetch the soul of Job the pious.” Thereupon Moses prayed to God in these words, “O may it be Thy will, my God and the God of my fathers, not to let me fall into the hands of this angel.”_

 

 **LUCIFER** — _The adversary._  Lucifer whose name translates to “shining one, morning star, Lucifer” is a Fallen Angel. In Greek as ἑωσφόρος ( _heōsphoros_ ), a name, literally “bringer of dawn”, for the morning star.

Of pre-Christian Enochic Judaism, the form of Judaism witnessed to in 1 Enoch and 2 Enoch 2, which enjoyed much popularity during the Second Temple period, gave Satan an expanded role, interpreting Isaiah _14:12-15_ , with its reference to the morning star, as applicable to him, and presenting him as a Fallen Angel cast out of heaven for refusing to bow to Adam, of whom Satan was envious and jealous.

Christian writers explained the motives of the Angel’s rebellion and the nature of his sin in the same way, but added pride against God, which they mention more frequently than envy or jealousy with regard to humanity.

Christian tradition, influenced by the Jewish presentation of the passage of Isaiah as applicable to Satan, came to use the Latin word for “morning star”,  _lucifer_ , as a proper name (“Lucifer”) for Satan as Satan was before his fall.

In a modern translation from the original Hebrew, the passage in which the phrase “Lucifer” or “morning star” occurs begins with the statement: _“On the day the Lord gives you relief from your suffering and turmoil and from the harsh labour forced on you, you will take up this taunt against the king of Babylon: How the oppressor has come to an end! How his fury has ended!”_  After describing the death of the king, the taunt continues:  _"How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.’ But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit. Those who see you stare at you, they ponder your fate: ‘Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made the world a wilderness, who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?’"_

 

 **METATRON** — _God’s heavenly scribe recording the deeds of all that is done in Earth and Heaven and all of Creation._ The translation of Metatron’s name is disputed, and in which may mean “keeper of the watch”, “guardian”, or “he who sits behind the throne of Heaven”). Metatron is an Archangel in Judaism.   
  
There are no references to Metatron as an Angel in the Jewish Tanakh or Christian scriptures (New and Old Testament); however, Genesis  _5:24_ is often cited as evidence of Enoch’s bodily ascension into heaven — _"And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.”_  Although he is mentioned in a few brief passages in the Talmud, Metatron appears primarily in medieval Jewish mystical texts and other post-scriptural esoteric and occult sources, such as the Books of Enoch—1, 2, 3. In Rabbinic tradition, he is the highest of the Angels and serves as the celestial scribe.

_“And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him. This Enoch, whose flesh was turned to flame, his veins to fire, his eye-lashes to flashes of lightning, his eye-balls to flaming torches, and whom God placed on a throne next to the throne of glory, received after this heavenly transformation the name Metatron.”_

While this identification of Metatron with Enoch is not to be found in the Talmud itself, the connection is assumed by some of the earliest kabbalists. There also seem to be two Metatrons, one spelled with six letters _(מטטרון),_ and one spelled with seven _(מיטטרון)._ The former may be the transformed Enoch, Prince of the Countenance within the divine palace; the latter, the Primordial Metatron, an emanation of the “Cause of Causes”, specifically the tenth and last emanation, identified with the earthly Divine Presence.

The Zohar calls Metatron “the Youth”, a title previously used in 3 Enoch, where it appears to mean “servant”. It identifies him as the Angel that led the people of Israel through the wilderness after their exodus from Egypt (again referring to Exodus _23:21,_ see above), and describes him as a heavenly priest.

 

 

 

Angels are also are mentioned many times in the Qur’an and Hadith. Islam is clear on the nature of Angels in that they are messengers of God. They have no freewill and can do only what God orders them to do. An example of a task they carry out is that of testing individuals by granting them abundant wealth and curing their illness.  

Some examples of Angels in Islam:

 

 **AZRAEL** —Azrael is often identified with the Archangel of Death in some traditions and folklore but not in any religious texts. The Qur’an never uses this name, rather referring to  _Malak al-Maut_  (which translates directly as  _angel of death_ ). The name literally means  _One Whom God Helps_ ,  in an adaptive form of Hebrew.

In Jewish mysticism, he is commonly referred to as “Azriel,” not “Azrael.” The Zohar (a holy book of the Jewish mystical tradition of Kabbalah), presents a positive depiction of Azriel. The Zohar says that Azriel receives the prayers of faithful people when they reach Heaven, and also commands legions of heavenly Angels. Accordingly, Azriel is associated with the South and is considered to be a high-ranking commander of God’s angels. (Zohar _2:202b)_

In some cultures and sects, Azrael is the name referring to the Angel of Death by some Arabic speakers. The Angel of Death is believed by Muslims to be one of the Archangels. The Qur’an states that the Angel of Death takes the soul of every person and returns it to God. However, the Qur’an makes it clear that only God knows when and where each person will be taken by death, thus making it clear that the Angel of Death has no power of his own. Several Muslim traditions recount meetings between the Angel of Death and the prophets, the most famous being a conversation between the Angel of Death and Moses. He watches over the dying, separates the soul from the body, and receives the spirits of the dead in Muslim belief. Rather than merely representing death personified, the Angel of Death is usually described in Islamic sources as subordinate to the will of God “with the most profound reverence.” 

In Sikh scriptures written by Guru Nanak Dev Ji, God (Waheguru) sends Azrael to people who are unfaithful and unrepentant for their sins. Azrael appears on Earth in human form and hits sinful people on the head with his scythe to kill them and extract their souls from their bodies. He then brings their souls to Hell, and makes sure that they get the punishment that Waheguru decrees once he judges them. This would portray him as more of an avenging Angel, or Angel of retribution, rather than a simple Angel of Death. It is unknown which story of Azrael this view is taken from. However, it is just a poetic description to warn the people of earth that if they continue committing sins they would be punished accordingly and Waheguru would not be lenient to anyone. The Sikh Gurus or the Guru Granth Sahib does not support the existence of an Angel of Death. It firmly believes that there is only a single power that rules the universe, the Almighty. His power has no limits and he does not require the assistance of anyone to carry out his work. The whole universe is working in accordance to a set of rules set by him and there is no one other than him to preside over it.

 

 **ISRAFIL** —Israfil whose name means  _“_ _The Burning One_ _”_ is the Angel of the trumpet in Islam,though unnamed in the Qur’an. Along with Mikhail, Jibrail and Izra’il, he is one of the four Islamic Archangels. Israfil will blow the trumpet from a holy rock in Jerusalem to announce the Day of Resurrection. The trumpet is constantly poised at his lips, ready to be blown when God so orders. In Judeo-Christian biblical literature, Raphael is the counterpart of Isrāfīl.

Israfil is the subject and title of a poem by Edgar Allan Poe;

 _“In Heaven a spirit doth dwell_  
Whose heart-strings are a lute;  
None sing so wildly well  
As the angel Israfil,  
And the giddy stars (so legends tell),  
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell  
Of his voice, all mute.”

 

 **DARADA'IL** —The Angels who travel in the earth searching out assemblies where people remember God’s name.

 

 **KIRAMAN KATIBIN** — _The two angels who record a person’s good and bad deeds._  
In Islamic tradition the two Kiraman Katibin are two Angels called Raqib and Atid, believed by many Muslims to record a person’s actions, thoughts and feelings. Whether a person is sent to the  _Jannah_ (heaven) or  _Jahannam_  (hell) is not, however, dependent on whether good deeds outweigh bad deeds; but is ultimately up to Allah’s mercy upon a believer. The Qur'an refers to them in two places, in _50:16-18_ and by name as ‘Noble Recorders’ in _82:10-12._

The work of the Kiraman Katibin is to write down and record every action, thought, or feeling a person has each day. One Angel figuratively sits on the right shoulder and records all good deeds, while another sits on the left shoulder and records all bad deeds.

The Book in which the Angels are writing is the cumulative record of a given person’s deeds. After that person’s death, it is said that on the Day of Judgement each person will be confronted with this record, and the two Angels will be present to tell God of what the person did.

It is recorded that Muhammad once said,  _"The (scribe) on the left hand raises his pen for six hours  before he records the sinful deed of a Muslim. If regrets it and seeks God’s forgiveness, the deed is not recorded, otherwise it is recorded as one deed."_ A further respite is granted after the deed has been recorded; up until the moment before death approaches, one is able to repent and ask for forgiveness.

Muhammad also stated:  _"After the death of the Muslim, they soar to the heaven and seek permission to live there, but Almighty God turns down their request saying, ‘My Heavens are full of Angels who are constantly engaged in Glorifying Me’. Then they will Reply, ‘Your creation has filled the earth, constantly glorifying You.’ Thereafter, Almighty God will command them to stand at the graveside of the Muslims and the servants of Almighty God to recite "Glory be to God" and prayers, and the reward of which is then bestowed upon the deceased person."_

 

 **MU'AGGIBAT** —A class of Guardian Angels who keep people from death until its decreed time.

Many Muslims believe that, after death, a person’s soul passes through a stage called barzakh, where it exists in the grave (even if the person’s body was destroyed, the soul will still rest in the earth near their place of death). The questioning will begin when the funeral is over and the last person of the funeral congregation has stepped 40 steps away from the grave. Nakir and Munkar prop the deceased soul upright in the grave and ask three questions: _“Who is your Lord? Who is your Prophet? What is your religion?”_.  A righteous believer will respond correctly, saying that their Lord is Allah, that Muhammad is their prophet and that their religion is Islam. If the deceased answers correctly, the time spent awaiting the resurrection is pleasant. Those who do not answer as described above are chastised until the day of judgment.

 

 **HARUT AND MARUT** —Are two Angels mentioned in the second Surah of the Qur’an who were sent down to test the people at Babel or Babylon by performing deeds of magic. The Qur’an indicates that although they warned the Babylonians not to imitate them or do as they were doing, some members of their audience failed to obey and became sorcerers, thus damning their own souls.  
  
The story of Haarwut and Maarwut is told in the second Surah (chapter), of the Qur’an, entitled “Al-Baqara” or “The Cow” . It appears in the 102nd Ayah, or verse, and forms part of a narrative concerning the people who followed sorcery.

_{They followed what the Shayatin (devils) gave out (falsely of the magic) in the lifetime of Sulaiman (Solomon). Sulaiman did not disbelieve, but the Shayatin (devils) disbelieved, teaching men magic and such things that came down at Babylon to the two angels, Harut and Marut but neither of these two (angels) taught anyone (such things) till they had said, “We are only for trial, so disbelieve not (by learning this magic from us). “And from these (angels) people learnt that by which they caused separation between man and his wife, but they could not thus harm anyone except by Allah’s Leave. And they learnt that which harmed them and profited them not. And indeed they knew that the buyers of it (magic) would have no share in the Hereafter. And how bad indeed was that for which they sold their own selves, if they but knew. And if they had believed and guarded themselves from evil and kept their duty to Allah, far better would have been the reward from their Lord, if they but knew!}. (Al-Baqarah, 102, 103)_


	3. Section One: Heaven and inhabitants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ky_gh14b010

**Section One:  
Heaven.**

 

_First edition, MDCCCX, A-LJS.  
Second (revised and edited), MMX, A-LHB._

  
Under assumption, the first thought to enter a person's mind when met with the cosmological concept of Heaven, is that Heaven is an endlessly magnificent place of worship--its beauty beyond comparison, beyond the artist's finest brush stroke, the poet's iambic pentameter. A place of such magnificence and heightened importance it transcends science and is unbound by the seemingly concrete laws of physics.

To most, Heaven is the highest of ideals, unparalleled in beauty and significance.

Be it in it name, tale, structure or inhabitants.

To all, Heaven is renowned as the home of God. Who is, to some, deemed as the creator of all, the Almighty. Others, simply a figment of a fine storyteller's imagination, an extended fable that caught on to the masses and seems to have no end in sight, no stop button. Illogical, at that. In a creation so large and intricate, a universe so vast, how could that possibly be handcrafted by one lone being, be them a God or not? Just what did they do to surmount to such power, and what is their purpose in creating such vastness... such life?

So many questions that lay unanswered that those with faith appear to so significantly believe and trust in, leaves the non believer astounded. Leaving them swamped in questions if the alternate they believe so strongly is the truth, still. An ever curious ticking within, bubbling up the same questions they ask in retaliation to believers: where, how and why. And particularly, what next?

Irregardless of belief, artists and poets alike would surely stand in awe -- or envy -- of God's finest creations, much as they do in their own realm of existence. Handcrafted--his home, and his warriors.

The Angels.

His home, withheld of all sin, Heaven is an assumed paradise. A place where one can spend the rest of their days after passing -- granted they have lived a just life -- in peace and tranquility. It is the highest point of purity, sanctuary. Seeing as only the good end up there, Heaven does not accept sinners, evil cannot manifest.

The Heavenly afterlife is safety. A realm without fear.

However, in present day Heaven, living in unsupervised peace and tranquility cannot be any farther from the truth. Present day Heaven holds a rigid hierarchy, in which every inhabitant has a working duty they must fulfill, a pledge of honor to keep hold of their position and keep themselves in check. Any failure to do so will result in consequences. 

This document exists in order to define that hierarchy, regardless of whether that was the original author's intention or not. To define and describe this place of magnificence, detail the living conditions and procedures one must take part in to inhabit Heaven, let the newcomer know of all of which Heaven holds dear. It must be kept in safe hands, away from those wishing to taint it.

If this document ends up in the wrong hands, an empire spanning millenia could crumble. With meticulous planning, perhaps that also spanning millenia, countered precision and decoding, all that has been carefully crafted, can fall.

 

Though seemingly endless in mass to the outsider, Heaven has four main corners in infrastructure, excluding the Main Hall.

 **MAIN HALL--** The Main Hall is vast in length, narrower than the neighboring areas of Heaven. A table of utmost magnificence in design lay in the exact center of the room, encrusted with the finest of gold and gems, far beyond that anyone could expect from Earth. Chairs are never out of place, perfectly aligned at any given moment. Before procedures, no items lay atop the table. Only when procedures take place, do the items get placed atop the table.

 _Note:_  There is always one Archangel leading procedures at any given time. That is Ascribed law. Procedures would not take place without an Archangel running them.

 _Role Call._ All inhabitants gather at specific times of day (morning, evening and night) for Roll Call -- to check that everyone who should be inhabiting, is inhabiting, that no one is missing. Inhabitants are expected to stay silent until their name is called, any failure to do so will result in reprimands. If an Angel misses Roll Call without written notice or verbal confirmation from their Mentoring Archangel as to why they are absent, expect punishment.   

 _Christening Procedure_. Takes place in the Main Hall, in which the newest of inhabitants are bonded to their Mentoring Archangels and assigned a place under the Alignment Of: (Archangel's Name), a house of residence in their respective street. Inhabitants are expected to take utmost care of their house, as well as their street. This is where they will primarily be spending their time. Make it presentable. 

 _Daily Gathering._ Another procedure that takes place in the Main Hall, in which meals are served and events of the day are lay out, awards and praises given to those that are excelling in their studies and strengthening abilities. Sometimes, Angels will be asked to demonstrate ability in specific areas.  

 

**ALIGNMENTS--**

The four main corners of Heaven, are the four Alignments.

Each Alignment specializes in a different area, to the point of mastery--each area a necessity in keeping the bloodstream of Heaven flowing. Each Alignment has its own representative color. Each Alignment possesses a Mentoring Archangel, and highly trained Counterpart. These two work in tandem, and are Angels' higher ups, regardless of faction. Whilst it is true that the Archangel and Counterpart of an Angel's designated faction is their primary Mentor, show fellow Archangels and Counterparts respect. Listen to your factions teachings, show up for protocol and study sessions, assist your Mentors in areas where assistance is asked.  Realize the position of Honor you have been granted in becoming an Angel, realize you have a duty to fulfill. Archangels have lived many a life more than you, are at the pinnacle of faction mastery, and will not give unjust criticism. 

Alignments are designed to look much like that of a 'street', in human terms. The Mentoring Archangel and his Counterpart will have their place of refuge -- their 'house', as such -- aligned directly next to each other. The Mentoring Archangel is the one who is primarily in charge of the Alignment and in training its inhabitants, being the one who has mastered the Alignment's area of expertise to highest level of proficiency, but it is well known that the Counterpart is able to fill in for the Mentoring Archangel if need be. Both will part-take in training and leaving suggestions for the Angels of the Alignment to consider applying in their training and studies.

A Mentoring Archangel's Counterpart places high up on the hierarchy, but not more so than the Mentoring Archangel them self. The Mentoring Archangel's words will always be considered before the Counterparts' will. The Mentoring Archangels' words are the finality factor of a decision. Every Counterpart is aware of such. Every Counterpart has been programmed to accept as such.

Counterparts are especially useful in the instance an Alignment has a lot of -- particularly newly -- transitioned inhabitants, as the workload will need to be evenly split between the two for the Alignment to effectively run.

 

 _DARK ALIGNMENT / LIGHT ALIGNMENT._  
The Alignments are categorized in one of two ways. Either they are a Dark Alignment -- in both Alignment color and area of expertise, meaning they are linked with the afterlife or at least interact with those belonging to the afterlife on a frequent basis, specializing in 'dark guidance' -- or a Light Alignment, meaning they linked primarily with life and conserving the purity of existing life forms, specializing in 'light guidance'.

 

The Alignments are as follows...

 _Dark Alignment, 1._  
God had bestowed upon the First Born of his Archangels, that the First Born would be Connector of the all existing Realms. The First Born would be the one to pave the pathway between Heaven and the Voids. From this, the First Born would then be able to forge the path from Heaven down to the Earth's atmosphere. God would then bestow upon his First Born the ability of the written word. His First Born would be his primary Scribe. But whilst God had granted the written word upon his First Born, God did not intend that his First Born be the one to bond mortal and immortal beings together. God did not intend that his First Born be the one to connect Celestial beings and Mankind together. God would class him as the most intelligent of all, though perhaps possessing the flaw of being too avoidant.

This marked the birth of the Archangel of the Realms. The Connector of pathways.

Those aligned under the Archangel of the Realms, Connector of pathways very rarely interact with the living, thus have adapted to this, even if unknowingly. Verbal communication tends not to be a forte, but they possess written proficiency of the highest calibre. Though rarely their own, words are constantly spinning in their minds, images constantly depicting harrowing sights of the Beyond, and beings that have passed on. Usually if they communicate, it is through such beings as they can and naturally will telepathically record and decode the thoughts of those who have passed on, hear beyond what exists in the concrete realm. Very prone to confusing their concrete reality (Earth realm) with that of the realm of the voids and of Heaven (or Hell), thus have difficulty identifying which reality is the 'true' reality. Tend to be proficient in an art, be it scribe, pen, voice, perhaps even movement. Many hold their sense of value through this ability, not knowing the talent is not entirely their own, that sometimes the void beings wish to make themselves heard -- or seen -- through such a talent, a borrowing of sorts. Knowledge of this may come as a harrowing shock to the Alignment member, attract revulsion, though will speed up development progress. 

Those belonging to this Alignment: the Alignment of the Realms, will be trained in the ability of Voidwalking, thus spend a vast majority of time in the Voids, with a natural inclination towards telepathy, such abilities will be strengthened, they are God's Scribes, must always be listening, recording that which takes place in realms of Beyond. 

 

 _Light Alignment, 1._    
Upon his better judgment, he intended that his Second Born be the one to do the bonding. Full of vitality, his Second Born would be one to bond mortal and immortal kind together. His Second Born would be the communicator. Gifted with the verbal word, and in instilling strength -- both in physical and mental terms -- in those around him, the Second Born was also a keen traveler. God bestowed the ability to travel across the bands of time to his Second Born, knowing the Second Born would never abuse this ability and use it for its righteous purposes. That he would bring upon the realms the greater good. God would class him as the strongest of all, though perhaps possessing a flaw of being too prideful.

Valiant and fair, this marked the birth of the Archangel of Valor. The bringer of Justice.

Those aligned under the Archangel of Valor, bringer of Justice have a natural propensity for strength, be it physical or mental, sometimes both. Able to sustain the highest calibre of torture once fully trained, those aligned can find themselves in the routine of denying themselves apt rest, and knowing they have survived high levels of prior brutality, are particularly adverse to surrender, regardless of how dangerous a situation may be. 'What is one more day, once one has experienced hell' may be a common catchphrase. It may not be as evident on the surface, their level of strength, but the more one is in the presence of one aligned to such an Alignment, the more it is felt. Gifted communicators, even if not presently aware at the time, they tend to have a natural way with words and in inspiring hope in the hearts, and if not in words, in their general presence. Types of this Alignment tend to show two sides equally: Strength and Adventure. Those belonging to this Alignment are able to travel across the bands of time, and show a natural inclination and curiosity even prior to transitioning. Can be haunted in some form, by an abstract 'what if' in their life, though they try to keep this under wraps, hidden behind a honey like, or good-natured surface. 

Those belonging to this Alignment: the Alignment of Valor, will be trained in the ability of Time travel, thus spend a vast majority of time hopping between realms, learning all they can. Martial arts and other forms of self defence they have an inclination towards, master such areas easily. Ability to defuse situations almost instantaneously. They are God's strongest warriors, God's travelers. 

 

 _Dark Alignment, 2._  
But God was not naive to the reality of life on Earth, and knew what followed for mortal beings. God could not deny the existence of dying and of death, and thus bestowed upon his Third Born the ability to control and manipulate death, to guide the dying and the dead. God intended that his Third Born would be the Archangel to guide mortals onto the other side, to explain to them where it is they ended up, and show them an afterlife they'd only heard exaggerated tales of. His Third Born was a quick learner, and when his Third Born mastered an area, there was no doubt about his expertise. With a natural propinquity for divination, God came to the realization that he did not even need to bestow the ability upon his Third Born as the Archangel mastered the ability himself. God would class him as the most gifted of all, though perhaps possessing the flaw of being too neutral, willing to humor those from opposite -- and opposing -- realms.

This marked the birth of the Archangel of Death. The holder of great Foresight.

Those aligned under the Archangel of Death, holder of great Foresight have always had an inkling of a world beyond their own, an itch to expand their knowledge in such areas. May go out of their way to make discoveries to back up their hypothesis, even if that in turn, attracts great danger their way. Very reliant on their intelligence, habitually find themselves in areas where their brains will be their strongest weapon. May need to work hard at transferring what they know down onto paper, but as their mind is their strongest weapon are assured that everything they know is safely locked away, even in the case of torture. Though they tend to have a preference for solitude and find habitual escape areas when in the presence of too many, may not always get their true message across via verbal communication, particularly as they are able to detach from areas other have great difficultly with, there is an adept talent of decoding and translation waiting to be awoken within them. Most likely of all Alignments to take initiative in terms of transitioning, once met with their realization their hypothesis can be backed up, adjust instantly. Thus can be prone to ending up in realms they should not be, worse yet, being tricked by malevolent beings. 

Those belonging to this Alignment: the Alignment of Death will be trained in the art of manipulating Death. Voidwalking is a must, but they must also interact with earth inhabitants, so must know about solid realms also. With a natural inclination towards divination, such abilities will be strengthened. They are God's Scientists, the overseers of the End.

 

 _Light Alignment, 2._  
Though upon observation, God came to the conclusion that dying brought on great distress to mortals. That the existence of an afterlife could shock them into a state of insanity, that some would feel wronged by inhabiting a vast void of emptiness and would rebel, demanding answers. They had been good in their lives, they had been promised a land of eternal peace. Where was it? God would also come to the realization that some of these mortals were right in their anger, God came to the realization that some of these mortals had the potential and requirements to inhabit Heaven itself, but as it was not an area of expertise at the time, did not want to risk their undead livelihood. Upon great contemplation and discussion, realized he could rally and train a specific type of mortal who had just passed onto the afterlife, and thus bestowed upon his Fourth Born the ability to guide mortals into heaven, to heal the sick and the wounded. To cure theirs ills and their pains. God would class him as the most patient of all, though perhaps possessing the flaw of being too welcoming, even to those from opposing realms.

This marked the birth of the Archangel of Healing. The Guide to Heaven.

Those aligned under the Archangel of Healing, Guide to Heaven specialize in restoring heath, curing ills. Naturally attracted to places of healing, habitually find themselves in positions of authority over those with ills. They are wise, nurturing. With a talent for concocting medicine, making medicinal discoveries, usually find themselves in renown for such discoveries. Trained in the art of Healing, undoing even the most intricate of tortures, they are a primary reason as to why Heaven's force is so strong. More and more it appears that those with ills themselves, belong to this Alignment, and have found ways to cure their own diseases, granted apt time is given to practice. Members of this Alignment have tended to suffer the entirety of their lives in some form so for this reason do not wish the same sufferings on others, instead wish to better the world, rid it of suffering, they are one with a purpose, and find transitioning such simplicity in comparison to harshness they experienced on earth  that they are open to helping and guiding others, almost instantly after the process takes place. One will tend to feel safe in the presence of one of this Alignment. 

Those belonging to this Alignment: the Alignment of Healing will be trained in the art of Healing, thus spend a lot of time undercover, observing in the concrete realm. Hospitals, healing expeditions, they are best at disguise, find it the easiest to blend in with humans, speak the same language. Technologically and mechanically adept, they are also keen at resupplying Heaven with relevant supplies. They are God's Doctors, God's Healers. 

Two for the realm of Dark energy, two for the realm of Light energy.

 

 _Colors._  
God believed the color to best represent his First Born would be Purple.   
For his Second, he believed it to be Gold.  
For his Third, Blue.  
And his Fourth and final Archangel, Green.

Making a pledge that there must always be Four. And that was how the Alignments were formed. 

 

 _Angels and transition.  
_ An Angels' transitioning process is the most vulnerable time of their Celestial existence, hence why they are kept away from peers during this two year period. We, as your Mentoring Archangels, have a lot of expertise in transitioning humans into Angels, in a way that we did not when this document was first concocted. Procedures since, have been altered in some forms, to make sure our plans and procedures are foolproof.

Weeks to months before your due transition date, you will experience visions of what is to come. To the point where they cannot be ignored, pushed away. You may push those close to you away, you may go on an impromptu self discovery journey without a word given to anyone close to you. You may up and leave an area you have lived for the entirety of your mortal existence. You may accidentally speed up the process yourself, and end up with more woes than had you not simply waited for Destiny to run its course.

Upon departing with your corporeal form, confusion will set in. An array of emotions will be experienced, very rarely are these emotions pleasant. You will experience anger of the highest calibre, destructive rage, you may be feral and attack, hence why this stage requires confinement. Some do not make it. 

Then desperation, a sadness that carries through the very core of your being. Memories of loved ones, past lives will possess you. It will hurt. You may try claw your way back, but you will fail. Once it is done, there is no undoing. 

By this point, your Christening Procedure will (or may) have taken place, you will be Aligned. You will move into your house of residence and will begin basic training. Leaning about the history of Heaven, Hierarchies, Alignments, Abilities, ad infinitum. You will be tested regularly, and repeat lessons if it is evident you have not learned anything. Alignment assessments take place, as it is not always abundantly clear which faction of guidance an Angel in transitioning is primarily seeking.

By this point, basic needs of humans such as food and sleep will have diminished, you will have many more hours in a day than you did on earth, due to not sleeping. Food is not a necessity but Heaven does provide it, if an Angel wishes to consume it, they are welcome. Mostly it just exists as an illusion of normality for newly transitioned Angels, to stop them repeating the feral stage. 

You will not be allowed to visit earth in these two years. You will not be allowed to interact with familiars from the earth's atmosphere in these two years, regardless of relation. This is where the wiping of past memories begins, as does the purifying of your blood. 

Once the latter two are complete, you are fully transitioned and ready to start your journey as an Aligned Angel of Heaven and will begin individual training in your future areas of mastery with your Mentoring Archangel and Alignment members. 

 


	4. Section One: Angel Transition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rkkw8RhH9ck

**Section One:**  
**Heaven.**

  
**Ayurnamat (Inuit)** _\- A word describing the philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed._

  
  


"This procedure is never easy," the tall man says. Upon closer inspection, it seems like he's been wrapped in an incorporeal sheen -- silver -- a stark contrast of his corporeal and alarmingly golden hair. "Tedious. Tiring. For all parties involved."

As if expecting the movement, the man looks to the side also, eyeing a pristine suit of armor; golden and silver plates with intricately woven engravings, it's hanging above, not a thread out of place. "When we are not training, nor in battle, we wear robes," he explains. "My name is Hongbin, you have been under my care for several months. You will recall little of your time here, but you are almost halfway done with transitioning."  
  
There's no reply.  
  
"Edge closer, please."  
  
But he stays in place, eyeing the golden haired man. "Never easy, how?"  
  
The man casts a lingering glance at him. "It is the longest of our procedures and ultimately the most draining. Mentally, emotionally. Participants rarely part with their memories with ease, nor are they expected to. To be instilled with the knowledge that the only mortal and conscious existence one has actively been aware of has abruptly ended and they are to move onto immortal and greater pastures -- as such -- is startling enough. To be notified that they must part with every memory, emotion, web and chain of events from said existence, even more so. But particularly, knowing that they will have to live through each and every one of these memories, under the knowledge it will be the first and last time, that each second they relive, is obliterated from their psyche, we empathize with how difficult that must be. Truly, we do. But in our current workforce, it is the only way. It is a necessity. I am well trained, you are in safe hands. I wish not to tamper with any memory you hold possession of, simply to ensure this procedure is carried out safely and effectively. I wish not to infringe upon any memory you hold possession of, and thus will not be accompanying you through the recollection, should you fear so."  
  
"I don't think I understand what it is you're saying to me."  
  
The tall man seems to sigh. "You have surely encountered the Archangel of Death, been made aware of your current state?"  
  
There's a silence.  
  
"You have. Though you cannot recall it."  
  
He sends an unsure smile the golden haired man's way.  
  
"Han Sanghyuk, you are dead. Though you will have trouble recalling, and will be unable after this procedure, you are one of the very few who has experienced a case of entering Heaven alive, more technically, in a comatose state. It is quite the extraordinary circumstance, and has been under intense scrutiny and analysis. You safely returned back to your mortal form, and continued as you were intended. But as mortal life does, your time ran to its close and you have returned to us, as intended, ready and able to begin your transition."  
  
"So what exactly is this..."  
  
"Heaven. You are to be an Angel under the force of Heaven, Han Sanghyuk. How does that make you feel?" He pauses for a fraction of a second. "--Too astounded to respond?"  
  
Sanghyuk nods feebly.  
  
"No matter. Memory wiping is a long procedure, and whilst you can see the events unfold in front of you, you cannot interact, no matter how much you may want to. Some would say this procedure, as difficult as it is, brings forth a form of closure, a bird's eye perspective."  
  
"Pretty brutal if I'm going to be losing the memories second by second as I'm viewing them though, no? And now that I'm aware of that... how am I going to be able to think of anything else?"  
  
Hongbin nods. "I suppose. But anything that has the potentiality of stunting your growth must be eradicated. It is easy to get caught up in these happenings, to lose yourself and your train of thought. You have lived this life, you will recall a vast majority of these events and the emotions that coursed through you as they took place, but as an outsider, will also have eyes open to that which you did not catch, and as an Angel -- soon to be -- this is heightened to an enormous degree. Human lives are limited. Anything 'out of the ordinary' will be reported back to us regardless of personal attachment, thus strengthening our knowledge base. Shall we proceed?"  
  
After a couple of minutes of deliberation, Sanghyuk nods, questioning if he even has a choice in the matter.

 

  
It's weird, he feels. This couldn't have been but five months ago. Watching the boy in the hospital bed as he glances out at the window, the tiniest upwards quirk of said boy's lip as he watches the droplets of snow fall from above, watching the hospitalized boy hear the unmistakable sound of his mother's arrival, watching him sit up as his mother's slender figure makes its way inside the room, eyes trained in as their interaction unfolds, unable to intervene, even if he wished to.  
It's surreal.  
  
Because it's him. Undeniably so. From five months ago, completely unaware he's being observed by his, well, dead self.

  
“Hyukkie.” Even with his eyes closed, he’s able to identify the owner of the voice. Her hand reaches over to grasp his immobile one, and he can place the exact second she frowns at how cold it feels in comparison to her own. “Baby, are you awake?”

Sanghyuk attempts a nod, but is vastly aware of how much he’d have to exaggerate for it to be seen. He’s in too much pain to sit up fully, so knows that’s out of the question. Clearing his throat, he forces his eyes open, trying not to wince at the blinding light that hits them. “Yes umma,” is what he says, though there’s not a lot of strength or vigor to his words. It’s evidently not his best of days, but he’s glad he still holds the ability to communicate.

Others do not.

Thankful that he’s still able to take in his surroundings and place them.

Others are not. Some he's on talking terms with, or used to be. The longer you are in a place, the more acquainted you become with its regulars. Alive or not. He recalls lengthy conversations with the plant pot situated to the left of his bed. 

His mother’s expression feels bittersweet. Light hearted, evidently, but the more she focuses her vision onto her newly awakened son, there’s a sadness becoming prominent, and the longer Sanghyuk allows himself to gauge her expression, the deeper it seems to become. “You should be sleeping,” she reprimands lightly. “Doctor’s orders.”

He knows at heart, she’s glad he’s awake. Knows she savors each and every second she has with him, knows she’ll drink in every word he’ll say with a feverish enthusiasm and persistent worry that it’ll be his last.

He knows that she knows that their time is limited.

Even that their days are numbered.

That death is unpredictable and can take place at any given moment. Even when it’s been in preparation for several years—like in Sanghyuk’s case—the unpredictability factor still stands.

Sanghyuk knows his death will arrive much sooner than the majority of his peers’ will, than his very own family.

Technology is now advanced to the stage where doctors can give him an exact estimate of the day they predict his organs will shut off for good. An estimate of the day where his respiratory system will stop working in tandem, where his heart will cease to beat. Cease to stop pumping blood through his veins.

But even then, there’s still the—larger than they’d like to admit—probability that said day will come much sooner than they’re anticipating.

How it could honestly happen today.

Right now, even.

But that’s not just for him, that stands for everyone. He thinks that’s a fact people tend to ignore, something they like to push to the backs of their minds and forget about.

Death can happen at any given moment, to any given individual.

No one knows when their life is going to end.

And that’s why he understands the philosophy of living every day like it’s your last, because it very well may be. But at the exact same time, finds such a stance entirely contradictory, because people who live their lives like every day will be their last are likelier to do purposely dangerous things, just so they go out with a ‘bang’ if said day does actually happen to be their last. 

It’s entirely up to them what they do with themselves, he’s not trying to pass judgement, he just knows that it makes for a contradictory circumstance because doing purposely dangerous things bring people even closer to death than what they were likely to have begun with, so nullifies the entire meaning of the philosophy.

Sometimes he wonders if that’s the point of philosophy.

He wonders about a lot of things when he lets himself think about it, and definitely has a lot of unanswered questions. Unanswered questions he’d love to find the answer to. But finding the answer to the majority of his questions would likely require a lifetime of pondering and research, and said lifetime is something he’s not going to have the privilege of experiencing.

To shun said fact to the backs of his mind would mean to live in a bubble of delusion, which is something Sanghyuk isn’t fond of. Plus, he reasons, he’s had years upon years to come to terms with the fact that his life is ending much sooner than those he holds dearest. Said fact doesn’t bother him.

Not any more.

To discuss his impending death is something he’d consider along the lines of what others do when they discuss the weather. Or the time.

Small talk.

He can’t say it’s the same for everyone else, though. Especially not those he holds dearest.

Turning back to his mother, he sighs. It’s light, airy. “I’m trying,” he mumbles, allowing his vision to fall onto the plain dressing of the hospital beds. “I know I’ve been here so long that realistically, I should be used to it by now, but these beds are always so uncomfortable.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, and knows his mother won’t catch onto his true implications, that she won’t realize he already is used to the beds. That what he really deems uncomfortable is what the beds symbolize themselves, the fact that they’re a constant reminder of how trapped he is.

It’s easy to consider a hospital a place of healing, especially if you’ve not been on the ins and outs of one the majority of your life. It’s even easier to coin a place you’ve lived the majority of your life in as a home, but to Sanghyuk, the hospital is the furthest thing from a home. Rather a prison.

A prison he can’t escape.

“I guess the worsening condition I’m in doesn’t exactly help either.” He knows he sounds bitter, he also knows that his mother thinks he’s still referring to the beds. For the first time in a long time, he wishes she’d be able to read into his implications. He wishes he’d be able to announce to the world what it is he really means, wishes he was allowed to tell family and friends and doctors how damn stifling it feels to be trapped in the same bed, in same sterile hospital room in the same ward in the same building for so long without one change of scenery.

He thinks he knows the term for what it is he feels so often.

Wanderlust.

He’s heard it spoken of, and every time the same thing is mentioned. A thirst to explore and travel and see the world. He has exactly that.

But it’s more than that. He has a thirst to experience a life he’s never going to get to, and whilst he’s come to terms with the fact that his life is going to be cut short—halved—he hasn’t accepted how much of his life has already been spent in bed, and how much more of it is expected to be spent in that same bed.

He hasn’t accepted that he’s not allowed to explore or experience the world in the way others are and will continue to be.

In the way others will take for granted.

People talk so often of bucket lists and things they apparently have to do before they die, and Sanghyuk’s in that exact position of dying, so why is it that he’s not allowed to leave his bed? Why is he bedridden in a building that requires twenty-four hour supervision and surveillance?

Is he not allowed a bucket list as well?

His mother tightens her grip on his hand, and he can tell by the averting of her gaze and how she hones it at her feet that what he’s said has hit a cord within her. He’s reminded her of what’s she been trying to push to the backs of her mind, at least for one day.

One interaction.

He feels guilty. And selfish. Sometimes he forgets that he’s not the only one suffering. “I’m sorry for reminding you, umma.” He tries to tighten his grip, too. “I know it upsets you to think about.”

“Don’t be sorry,” her voice is weak. It holds no vigor. “If anyone’s to blame…”

“Umma,” Sanghyuk whispers, definitely tightening his hold this time. “Please don’t finish that sentence. It’s not your fault, it’s never been your fault.”

“Am I allowed to be angry, Hyukkie?”

Sanghyuk blinks. “Angry?” He then frowns. “Did I do something wrong?” As much as he grows and matures, angering his parents will always be something he’s terrified of doing.

His mother sniffles, looking the other way. “That’s exactly it,” she says, her voice strained. “You didn’t do a thing, Hyukkie! You’ve never hurt anyone, you’ve never commit any large scale atrocities. You’re a child who has every right to have a guaranteed future ahead of you, but you don’t. We live in a world where murderers are allowed to walk free, both without a prison sentence and in good health. Yet an entirely innocent child such as yourself has to suffer and cling on to survival, as if survival is a battle, rather than a rite of passage? Not only did your father and I have to fight tooth and nail to bring you in this world, you now also have to fight tooth and nail to stay in it yourself?” She dabs at her eyes. “I don’t understand, Hyukkie. Why is it that bad things happen to good people? You don’t deserve this. It isn’t fair.”

He doesn’t even have to glance at her to know she’s crying. He doesn’t have to look at her to know these are the kind of thoughts that plague her mind every minute of every day, and that the injustice she feels won’t ever cease.

He can’t tell her she’s wrong, he can’t tell her there’s a reason why it’s him in his position.

He doesn’t even know where to begin with a reply. Instead he nods, realizing she doesn’t really get the chance to have heart-to-heart talks with him often. Nor does she ever get the chance to recall their happy times. That of all things, she needs them most.

His friends will miss him sure, but their loss won’t compare to the devastation his parents will experience when he goes.

“Umma,” he says. She’s probably surprised at the change of tone in his voice, how minutes ago he was sounding bitter and now sounds softer, as though all is finally right with the world. “Can you do a favor for me?”

His mother nods earnestly, edging closer. “What is it, darling?”

He wonders if she’ll find it a strange request. “Will you walk to the window and describe what you see for me?”

His mother glances at him confusedly, but after her second or so of deliberation nods her head. She stands up and does exactly what Sanghyuk requested of her, which is to walk to the window. She pulls the blind up, and allows herself a few minutes to drink in her surroundings. “It’s snowing,” she whispers with a smile. A smile that suggests she’s caught on to what it is Sanghyuk’s doing. What it is his request means.

Or at least he thinks so when witnessing it at first glance.

Perhaps it’s a sad smile, is what he thinks when taking a second glance. 

Sanghyuk waits. He waits until he’s sure that she has thoroughly taken in the picturesque view before her, before urging her to come back over and sit down beside him.  
His mother sends another glance outside the window, expression hard to read, before she turns around and embarks on the journey back to Sanghyuk’s bedside. She sits down on the seat she’d previously left, using this time to glance up at her son with a soft smile–as if waiting for him to begin the next line of conversation.

Urging him, even.

Which is exactly what Sanghyuk does. “What memories of you and I can you recall about snow and winter, umma? With appa, too? – As a family.”

The smile she’s wearing falters a fraction. Inhaling a shaky breath, she gives herself some time to think it through. To mull it over. She then nods, turning to face Sanghyuk directly. “As far back as I can remember? Chronological order?”

Sanghyuk shrugs, moment subtle. “In any order, really. I don’t mind the order, I just want to hear it from your point of view – maybe be told of times I obviously won’t be able to recall because of age and stuff.”

There’s a nod, the sound of her inhaling a breath as if to prepare herself. Her gaze is elsewhere. “You weren’t born in winter, Hyukkie.”  
  
“I know,” Sanghyuk whispers.  
  
She blinks. “Then why ask about my memories of winter, darling?”  
  
“Because it’s winter right now,” he says. “And we have to spend every moment we have together like it’s the most precious gift, no? We don’t know if I’ll have tomorrow, umma.”

“You’ll have tomorrow,” she whispers, and it sounds like a promise. To herself, or to him? He wishes he knew.

“I can’t recall many of my previous winters, umma. But you can, can’t you? You’ve experienced a lot more of them than I ever will.”

He knows her eyes are probably tearing up. He knows it pains her to be reminded, knows she hasn’t accepted the reality of the situation entirely–that she wants to put off doing so for as long as physically possible. That the ever lessening chance of tomorrow is all the hope she needs to keep believing. That she must have happy memories stored within her somewhere.

It’s true they’re all she’ll have left of him someday. A someday which very well may be relatively soon.

“Memories are all you’ll have of me one day, umma.”

“Hyukkie.” She sniffles, sounding pained. “Please.”

Sanghyuk only hums. “What was our first winter like, umma?”

“Before you were born or after?”

“Let’s start with before.”

She seems to shiver, and he’s not sure if it’s from the cold, or having to recall the memory. “It was cold,” she whispers. “Lonely.”

Sanghyuk’s eyebrows furrow. “Lonely?”

“For the first few months,” she reiterates. “Your father wasn’t around. He’d just got a promotion with his job, and it was much further into the city and…” She stops here, sighing. “He didn’t know about you at this point, so please don’t think he did.”

Sanghyuk blinks his brown eyes at her, confusion evident. “Why didn’t you go with him?” He can’t seem to comprehend. “Why didn’t he know about me, umma?”

His mother fiddles with her fingers, eyes downcast. “Hyukkie… it’s kind of a long story.”

Sanghyuk’s smile is soft, serene. “We’ve got time,” he says, but the minute the words leave his lips, seems to come to the realization of what he’s said. “Ah.”

His mother winces.

“How very ironic of me.” And somehow finds it in him to laugh good naturedly.

His mother on the other hand, she can’t seem to find it in herself to laugh along.

 

\- -

 

Though he's certain he'd pictured what his mother had described the first time around, he's literally transported to the scene as the 'outsider'. A scene that takes place prior to his birth, prior to his conception, even. Resisting the urge to explore on his own terms, he stands back, watching the scene unfold. 

_The room is too bright, the lights are too blinding._ That’s the only thought that presently occupies Eunbyul’s mind. She’s been curled on the sofa in a fetal position trying her best to feign indifference, or at least some level of comfort. Just something, really. Something that allows her to sit there and not have to join in with the conversation her husband Seungheon is having with his mother – her mother in-law.

Both are in the kitchen chatting amiably, and as much as she is glad, she also knows she doesn’t want to be in said room with them.

Not for any personal reasons, at least not entirely. It’s just been a seemingly endlessly long day and Eunbyul’s one desire since leaving her bed this morning has been her wanting to return to it to rest. 

She’d actually woken up in bright spirits this morning, excited at the chance to interact with her in-laws after several months of separation, and she knows full well that this is not a stance a whole lot of other couples seem to share in common.

Contrary to other couples in her situation, she’s found that she’s always gotten along with her in-laws, and had even in the very early stages of hers and Seungheon’s relationship.

Perhaps it’s because she’s always been a person that’s been willing to go out of her way to help other people, a person who will gladly walk an extra mile in a stranger’s shoe.

Perhaps it’s because they can visibly see and experience just how genuine her love for their son is. Just how serious she is about him. 

She doesn’t know the exact reasoning as to why her in-laws appear to be just as fond of her as she is with them, she just knows she’s content with it. That she’s content with them and genuinely thankful for them, too.

But none of that will change the fact that today has been utterly debilitating and draining for her. As she’s sitting there, she questions – berates herself, even – why she didn’t trust her gut instinct this morning.

If she had, she knew she wouldn’t be half as drained or mentally exhausted as she currently is. 

And a lot less hurt, too.

 

 

“What was it that happened to made you feel so low, umma?”

 

  
The party had been in preparation months in advance, and was definitely something Eunbyul had been looking forward to, it’d be a blatant lie for her to deny she hadn’t.

Her worries on the day the party did arrive weren’t unjustified, however. 

She definitely hadn’t expected things to turn as sour as they did, yet still be left as unsaid as they were. Deep down in her heart she knew things couldn’t continue in the manner they had been doing, but daren’t voice it out in case she hit a cord somewhere along the lines and kick started a full blown argument.

Right there, right then. Within the vicinity of her in-laws. And who wanted that?

Definitely not Eunbyul.

No one could tell on the outside, especially since they acted just like they always had. Neither had ever really been big fans of public displays of affection, so at least she didn’t have to worry about that.

But she knew that Seungheon’s mother had eyes like a hawk, and that no lie would pass by her. If you tried to hide anything from her, she’d figure it out within minutes, most of the time.

She’d always been very fond of her mother in law, but the fact of the matter still stood that Seungheon was her mother in law’s son so if an argument did take place, she knew that her mother in law would always primarily be on her son’s side. 

Especially since he was kind of doing it all to complete her wishes to begin with.

She hears him before she sees him, which is a little unnerving when she’s only just awoken and thus extremely susceptible to grogginess.

“Eunbyul,” he sounds as tired as she feels. “Get up.”

There’s no response from Eunbyul, so Seungheon makes his way over to the bed, sighing. “Eunbyul,” he says once more, shaking her. “You need to get up.”

Eunbyul grumbles, maneuvering so that his hold is off her.

Seungheon sighs once more, then turns his attention towards the blankets, pulling them off her. “You need to get up, Eunbyul.” Which seems to have done something, as his wife’s eyes are now open. Apparently not willingly, but it’s a start.  
  
She winces when the light infiltrates her vision, grumbling still. Then takes a glance at the clock and has to suppress her gasp. “Yah,” she says, aghast. “Why are you waking me up this early?”  
  
Seungheon takes a surreptitious glance at the clock himself, but there’s little to no reaction from him. “It’s a long drive, Eunbyul. You know that.”  
  
Eunbyul quirks an eyebrow. “Long drive to where?”  
  
He looks minorly amused. “The party is today. Since they’re my parents, they’ll be expecting us to be there earlier than everyone else to help set everything up, hence us needing to leave a lot earlier.”

Eunbyul’s eyes widen, and before she can even process it, she shoots up–nearly falling out of the bed in the process–and rushes towards her wardrobe to retrieve the outfit she’d already planned weeks prior. “The party is today?!” She’s evidently panicking. “Aish, since when?!”

“Since we received the invitation.”

Eunbyul sends him a look, to which Seungheon responds a small chuckle.

“Weren’t you excited for it since receiving the invitation? How did the date slip your mind?”

“Dates always slip my mind,” she says, waving her hand in an offhand manner. She then comes to a halt, blinking. “Also, you noticed?”

Seungheon seems to come to a halt too. “Notice what? That you were excited?”

Eunbyul nods.

He quirks an eyebrow. “It was hard not to?”

“It’s just… recently…” She then shakes her head, chuckling. There’s an awkward note behind it. “Never mind. I’ll, uh, go shower then. I’ll try not to be too long.”

Seungheon nods, wondering if he looks as puzzled as he feels.

Taking her final step down the stairs after readying herself, Eunbyul reaches out for her heels. She feels anxious, but not tense. She knows her in-laws, so there’s no need to be tense. But she hasn’t seen them for a while, and she knows her mother-in-law has eyes like a hawk, and can pick up on any minor change. She hopes she can keep herself at ease and put on a convincing pretense, because the last thing she wants to do is cause a scene in front of her mother-in-law. The last thing she wants is to fall out with them, or for them to have their view soured of her.

She knows it’s not likely she and Seungheon will argue in front of them, or even at all… but considering how closed off they’ve been with each other recently, she’s sure that’ll show in some form. And she’s worried her mother-in-law will be the first to pick up on it.

Once she’s fastened the final strap of her last heel, she hears shuffling from the next room. Seungheon makes his way through the doorway seconds later, eyes falling to her silhouette on the steps. He pauses.

“You look nice,” he finally says after several seconds of contemplative silence.

Eunbyul blinks up at him, seeming slightly taken aback. She wonders how this can be, when in the distant past, she knew she’d tease him for such a statement. That she’d joking ask an ‘is that all? Just nice?’, but is now genuinely surprised when he says even that?

As if prepping herself, she decides that maybe she’ll go for it one more time. That maybe she’ll act like her old self. Perhaps Seungheon will play back into it, become flustered like he would have in the past.

Chuckling to herself, she knows there’s a playful glitter to her eyes. “Just nice?” And a playful lilt to her tone of voice.

Seungheon pauses, seeming as if he’s the one taken back this time. He then quietens, expertly avoiding her eyes. He clears his throat, before directing his attention towards the door. “Should we go?”

Somehow, Eunbyul’s not all that deterred. She feels like she’s at least made a start. With a nod, she pushes herself onto her feet, but not before debating in her mind whether or not she should’ve offered her hand out to Seungheon to help her onto her feet.

She decides she made the right decision by not doing so.

The walk to the car is quiet, with neither Eunbyul or Seungheon striking conversation. They’re standing beside each other, but neither reaches out to grasp hold of the others’ hand. Eunbyul would like to peg it down to the fact that neither has ever really been fans of PDA, but knows that’s not the only reason.

Deciding she’d rather not dwell on it today of all days, she walks ahead, now standing in front of the passenger’s side of the car. She waits for Seungheon to unlock the car, before allowing herself inside.

Neither speaks when inside the car either, but Eunbyul does turn the radio on, gently humming along to the radio play.

At times, it seems as though Seungheon’s nodding along too.

It’s always been a long drive, and she’s become accustomed to that, so can’t quite understand why it feels so much shorter this time around. Seungheon isn’t speeding, they aren’t talking. Speeding would make the journey faster and speaking always makes it seem so. Neither are taking place currently, so what is it?

Eunbyul eventually puts it down to the fact that she’s enjoying the radio. And the fact that she’s focusing more on the upcoming interaction with her in laws than the fact that her and her husband are still in their phase of well, whatever it is that’s going on between them.

Eunbyul still doesn’t know the name for it. Nor if other couples have been through or would go through it. She knows there will have been other couples in their position, but she’s sure they would’ve handled it a lot differently than she and her husband have and currently are doing.

That they’d likely talk it through, rather than let it get to the point Eunbyul and Seungheon have.

She knows whatever it is, whatever phase they’re going through –- it’s exhausting and she’s been done with it since the moment of its conception.

Which is obviously a fitting word.

Sighing, she cast a surreptitious glance at her husband, who is focusing intently on the road, on keeping the vehicle steady. On getting them there.

She wonders what it is he’s thinking.

“Seungheon,” she finally whispers, voice hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t have to glance at her to know where it is she wants to go with it, he can tell purely by the tone of her voice. Keeping his gaze ahead, he lets out a breath. “Can it wait?”

“Yeah,” Eunbyul says after a moment, playing with the golden band on her finger that symbolizes the entirety of their years together. “I guess it can.”

And that’s that.

She doesn’t know why she feels like crying.

 

\- -

 

Arriving at her in-laws house feels a lot more daunting than she prepared herself for. When the car pulls to a stop and Seungeon gets out, it’s as if Eunbyul’s seat belt develops a mind of its own and has an aim to wrap itself around her as tightly as it's capable of and deny her of all oxygen within vicinity, trapping her from moving even an inch forward.

“Eunbyul?”

When Eunbyul glances up, the confusion and vulnerability that lay behind her brown eyes throws Seungheon off, deferring him from his original point.

“Is something wrong?” The words sound a little awkward even to his own ears, but they leave his mouth faster than he’s able to think them through. “Are you okay?”

Eunbyul blinks, shakes her head as if she’s been snapped back to reality and the entire minute that it takes for this to take place feel utterly surreal to her. “I,” she begins, eyebrows furrowing. “I… yeah. I think so?”

Seungheon look worried. “Are you sure?”

Eunbyul nods halfheartedly.

Seungheon raises an expectant eyebrow, as if urging her to do something. Eunbyul sends him a look of confusion and it takes until Seungheon has gestured towards her seat belt before his intentions set in place for her. She looks star struck at this, as if it’s only just dawned on her that the seat belt is still fastened up.

“Oh,” she mouths.

Seungheon looks like he’s suppressing a chuckle.

Quickly unfastening her seat belt she fixes her dress and shuffles closer, legs now outside of the car. Just before she can stand up, Seungheon edges closer, offering his hand to her.

Eunbyul pauses at this, blinking up at him like a deer caught in head lights.

“Uh,” he begins. “It’s just that–” Indicating towards his parents’ house, seeming as though he’s trying to convey something without using words.

Eunbyul nods, catching on. His parents don’t know that things are… awkward for them right now, so will expect them to at least seem as couple-like as when they last encountered the pair. She clears her throat before taking his hand. “Right.”

As if the world has a particular vendetta against her, the exact moment she makes a move to stand up, her heel gets caught on the edge of the side walk, before she knows it, she’s stumbling forward, readying herself for a face plant on the ground. Possibly a twisted ankle whilst she’s at it.

Fortunately–or perhaps not-so fortunately, as it leads to an equally awkward scenario–she’s caught almost instantaneously by Seungheon’s arms, which are now securely holding her in place.  
  
“It’s going to be a bad day,” she mumbles, words muffled by the material of his coat.

“Hm?”

She can’t even help but bury her face in the material of his coat, the coat that smells exactly like the scent she’s begun to associate with him. “I miss you,” she mumbles again, subconsciously tightening her hold on him.

“Eunbyul,” he sounds frustrated, gently tilting her chin up so she’s looking up at him. “What are you even saying? The coat’s muffling everything and–”

“Please don’t hate me,” Eunbyul then chokes out, eyes misting over. “I’m sorry I’m ruining everything already. I didn’t mean to.” It looks as if her bottom lip is seconds from quivering. “I promise I didn’t mean to.”

There’s a pause. A few seconds of tense silence pass, and it’s an agonizing wait for Seungheon’s reply which comes in the form of an, “I don’t hate you.” He casts a surreptitious glance at her footwear. “And you’re not ruining anything. Watch your footing thought, alright? You’re so clumsy in heels.”

With this he unlatches himself from her and walks ahead, leaving Eunbyul standing looking somewhat like a lost and slightly dazed puppy, before she stumbles along behind him. “Seungheon,” she whisper-hisses, after a minute or two, cursing his long legs and fast walking pace.

Seungheon turns back, takes one look at the scene before him, shakes his head in a fond manner before strolling back, reaching over and grasping a hold of her hand. He then intertwines their fingers and leads them towards his parents’ front door.

 

\- - 

 

Once inside, Eunbyul turns to her left in search of a coat rack to hang her coat up on. When she’s in the process of undoing the buttons, she hears footsteps approaching. It’s not hard to identify the owner of said footsteps, with the gentle footfalls and feminine scent, it’s none of than her mother-in-law.

“Eunbyul,” she greets, placing a maternal arm around the young woman’s narrow shoulders. “Darling.”

Eunbyul bows lightly, smiling up at her mother-in-law.

“Come have a seat, we’ll be setting up for the party in a little while.”

Eunbyul nods along, trying her hardest to seem as inconspicuous as possible. She’s feeling nervous, so is unsure of what to verbalize, what kind of topic to breech to sound… as normal as possible.

Conversing with her in-laws used to be so easy, breeze-like. Now she feels she has to calculate every move and make sure she doesn’t say the wrong thing, or anything that could allude to anything that could get their hopes soaring.

She resists the urge to run her hand over her temple, and instead follows her mother-in-law into the living room, taking a seat where she’s directed to.

It’s in this moment when her mother-in-law’s eyes 'inconspicuously’ fall to her stomach, probing. “Ah,” she says, expression poised. “You’re looking very thin, Eunbyul. Even thinner than our last encounter.”

Eunbyul would be lying if she said she couldn’t hear the disappointment in her mother-in-law’s tone of voice.

It takes everything within her to hold back her grimace, and instead play it cool. “Ah, really?” She hopes her laughter doesn’t sound too forced. “I haven’t been as lenient with snacks as usual, so I guess that’s surprising?” Hoping and praying that it won’t sound suspicious.

Her mother-in-law sends a calculating glance her daughter-in-law’s way, and finally nods. Seeming as if she wants to save the talks and perhaps interrogations for later, she changes the topic. “Are you excited for the party?”

Eunbyul nods, but the feeling of dread from this morning still hasn’t left her.

The reason for that becomes clear when the rest of the guests arrive, and the fact that Eunbyul is met with two surprises.

The first is a happy one, admittedly. She won’t lie that she’s not excited about it, because she is. It’s just what comes after that’s unsettling for her.

Seungheon’s not the oldest sibling, he’s actually the middle child. He has an older brother, Seunghyun, and a younger, Seungyoon. There are four years between Seungheon and his older brother, and two between Seungheon and his younger brother.

Eunbyul’s sister in law Miyeon is the most effortlessly beautiful woman she’s encountered and to boot, has a heart of gold. Since they’ve met, she’s treated her like an actual blood relative, and has been nothing if not welcoming to her.

Seungheon’s older brother has been the exact same.

So that’s why she can’t help be genuinely happy for them and their news. But it doesn’t stop the fact that her heart also drops, somewhat, as much as she wishes it didn’t.

It’s been seconds since it’s been announced, and as happy as Eunbyul is for her in-laws, something tightens in her throat and makes her unable to formulate words.

Miyeon’s giggle is demure, just like everything else about her. Her dainty fingers wrap around her cup as she lifts it to her mouth and takes a sip. There’s a genuine light to her eyes, the kind that goes beyond happiness. “We couldn’t wait to tell you all,” she says softly, eyes flitting around the table. They stop at Eunbyul, and her smile widens. There’s no malice, no indication that Miyeon’s able to read the inner turmoil that’s going through Eunbyul at this present moment, either. “You especially.”

Eunbyul almost chokes on her drink. “M-me?"

There’s the same giggle from before. "Of course! Obviously after umma and ourselves, I’d expect you’d be the most excited.” Her eyes are shining with so much happiness and affection that Eunbyul feels awful for the way her body has frozen in place, with how she’s brunched up, and unable to meet eyes with any of them fully. “Are you excited, Eunbyul?"

Eunbyul gulps, before raising her vision to meet Miyeon’s head on. "Of course,” she says numbly. She knows Seungheon’s glancing at her. She doesn’t glance back. “It’ll be so fun,” she clears her throat, not liking how choked up she sounds to her own ears. “Picking clothes out and such. Those kinds of events.” There’s a slightly awkward chuckle that follows.

“And decorating! You have a talent for art, Eunbyul. I’d love if you could help.” Miyeon pauses. “But only if you want to, of course.”

It’s true she has a talent for art. “I’d love to,” she says, and though she really, really would, her voice falls to a whisper.

“I’m sure you’ll make a great aunt, Eunbyul.”

None of the reactions have come close to how their mother-in law reacted, and none will ever come close to the excitement their mother-in law feels when this topic is breached. At what Miyeon’s said, their mother-in-law turns to face Eunbyul, grinning from ear to ear. Aside from the first few meetings of her, Eunbyul’s never been as scared of her mother-in-law as she is right now.

Of what the grin signifies.

“I’m sure she’ll also make a great–”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Eunbyul stutters out quickly. “May I be excused, to use the bathroom?”

Her mother-in-law looks momentarily taken aback, but then nods. “Of course,” she says merrily. “You’re family too.”

 

\- - 

 

Once in the bathroom, Eunbyul leans against the wall and takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm her nerves down. The room is beginning to feel like it’s spinning and as much as she thought she’d prepared herself for these type endeavors, facing the reality happens to be a lot different.

She doesn’t know how long she takes –- believing it to be five or so minutes at the maximum –- in which she spends just catching her breathing and trying to clear her mind before she embarks on the trek back down the stairs.

Only to be met by sight she would’ve never been able to predict. Only to be met with a sight she’d only see in the very worst of her nightmares.

In fact she hears her before she sees her. “Eunbyul!” With a tone of voice that’s akin to nails scraping down chalkboard, into her line of vision struts Lee Eunmi, an old classmate of hers. An extremely manipulative and vindictive old classmate of hers, who for some reason decided to latch onto Eunbyul and make her life akin to hell, for several years. “What a lovely surprise,” the words are coated in a sickly sweet cover, making them sound utterly harmless, but Eunbyul can tell almost instantaneously that there’s a hidden meaning there.

That Eunmi hasn’t changed at all.

That she still despises Eunbyul with every core of her being.  
  
And for some reason is now standing in the hallway of her in-laws house.

Eunbyul comes to a standstill at this, eyebrows furrowing. Thankful at the realization that she’s not suddenly been transported back to the past, and forced to interact head on with what she’d deem satan’s offspring, but said person is standing in the halls of her in-laws house, taking her jacket off, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.  
“What are you doing here?” She’s aware of how blunt it sounds, but right now, just wants her answer.

Eunmi exaggerates a frown at this, blinking her eyelids at Eunbyul in a manner that’s all too innocent to be genuinely innocent. “Eunbyul,” she whines, edging closer and clinging onto Eunbyul’s arm. She always had a weird thing for doing aegyo and the most confusing of times. “That’s no way to treat your sister in law to be!”

Laughter bubbles up from Eunbyul’s throat before she can even process it. “Nice joke,” she says dryly. “Now honestly, what is it you’re doing here?”

There’s a smug smile painting Eunmi’s lips. “Going to tell umma that me and Seungyoon are engaged!” Dangling her fingers in front of Eunbyul’s face, and showing off the evidently real ring there. “Isn’t it obvious?” Then as she casts a surreptitious glance around the hallway, lowers her voice into an almost whisper. “Perhaps I overstepped the margin earlier by assuming you and Seungheon are married, hm?”

Eunbyul rolls her eyes. “You’re four years too late, actually.”

“You don’t seem as scared of me any more, Eunbyul. What happened? Before if I even glanced in your direction you’d cower in fear. It was pretty pathetic. But honestly, you always were, so.”

Rather than even acknowledge any of this, Eunbyul walks ahead. “I have a party and a dinner I have to get back to, and since you want to surprise said family, I’ll let you get on with that.”

“You’re sad,” Eunmi notes, but there definitely is a malicious note behind her words. A false frown comes into play. “What happened, Eunbyul? And don’t even dare say nothing because it’s obviously something.” She chuckles, glancing around. “Where’s Seungheon, Eunbyul? Are you here alone? Let me guess, did he finally realize how much better he could do and ditch you? You should’ve thanked me all those years ago for warning you, you know. When am I not right?”

“Right now,” Eunbyul says tersely. “I was merely on a restroom break. Where’s Seungyoon?”

Eunmi rolls her eyes. “Probably trailing behind like usual. You know how they are.”

“Well I’m going to go on ahead, I guess I’ll see you inside.”

Eunmi smirks. “I guess you will.”  
  


Awkward is an understatement for how Eunbyul feels when Eunmi barges in minutes later, carrying bags full of gifts, and dressed as if she’s to attend the most sophisticated of parties. Looking like a million and one dollars. As much as she’s glad to see Seungyoon, his apparent fiancée she could definitely do without.

The worst part about it, however – and it seems to be for the both of them – is Seungheon’s reaction. Or lack, thereof.

There’s no indication that her husband even recognizes the woman sitting opposite him, especially not by how amicable and polite he’s being with her, at least in Eunbyul’s opinion. Her husband knows how awful her and Eunmi’s history happens to be, and though he’s not the type to get caught up and involved in such endeavors, she knows – or at least, knew – that he’d always be on her side.

It’s a bitter sweet thing, in a way. Eunbyul doesn’t know how to make up her mind on how to feel about it.

“Seungheon,” Eunmi then says, and Eunbyul’s sure she’s the only one who catches on to the angry undertones of her words. “You’re so funny!” Looking like she wants to reach over and playfully slap him on the chest, but can’t because of the distance between them and the fact that she’s engaged to his younger brother and he’s sitting beside his wife of four years, who before that was his long-term girlfriend.

Eunbyul wants to cringe for her. But refrains. As much as she dislikes Eunmi, she doesn’t want to cause a scene.

“You know my name?” His eyebrow raises slightly. “Also, I didn’t tell a joke…”

Eunmi’s smile is terse. “Don’t you recognize me?"

Seungheon shakes his head, glancing at Eunbyul as if that’ll be any indicator as if he should recognize the woman opposite him or not. Eunbyul sends him a soft shrug herself, and watches as Eunmi’s eyes narrow into slits.

She clears her throat. "I’m Lee Eunmi.” There’s a forced giggle. “Eunbyul and I were like _the_ best of friends in high school, don’t you remember?"

Seungheon pauses, seeming to be mulling it over. She watches as he mouths 'Lee Eunmi, Lee Eunmi, Lee Eun…mi?’ as if it’s going to remind him who she is, which the third time does as he nods in recognition. But then frowns a little, questioning Eunmi’s prior statement of being best friends with his wife. As far as he could recall, they were the furthest thing from friends.

Seungheon’s mother turns to glance at Eunbyul and Eunmi at this, smiling. "Why didn’t you tell us sooner? I would’ve invited you both out together along with Miyeon and myself. As much as I love seeing all three of you separately, it would’ve been nice to have a few trips together, no?”

Eunbyul grows cold at the implications of this. “She’s been… here before?”

Her mother-in-laws’ eyes crinkle in a smile. “Why, yes. She’s been in a relationship with our Seungyoon for about six or seven months now.”  
  
Eunbyul turns to Seungheon, as if he was supposed to know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know about it either.”

Seungyoon smiles sheepishly. “I was going to tell all of you sooner actually, but Eunmi insisted we keep it on the down low so we could surprise you all. Apparently, it’s going as plan.”

“Yeah,” Eunbyul says tersely. “I didn’t know you were into… noonas, Seungyoon.”

Seungyoon pinks at this. And Eunbyul wants to pretend she doesn’t notice Seungheon edging closer to her, though she definitely does. “It’s only by two years.”

Eunbyul nods, chuckling softly. “I know. I’m just teasing you.”  
  
Seungyoon seems to pink a little more at this.

“Anyway,” Eunmi brusquely cuts in, raising her voice as to not go unnoticed. “We have another surprise for you all!”

Eunbyul cringes, sinking into her seat slightly, like she wants to shut the world away. Or sink into the ground and never come back out.

Seungheon sends her a peculiar glance, as if confused by her behavior, before shaking his head and looking forward.

Eunmi drags it out, adding to the supposed 'suspense’, before pulling the hand she’s been hiding out and putting it on display for all eyes to see. Putting the ring on display for everyone to see.

There’s gasps from the table, and widening of eyes. Eunbyul’s the only one who doesn’t react. Even Seungheon looks taken aback at the news, but it doesn’t appear to be happy surprise.

“Wait,” he says, turning to Seungyoon, looking disgruntled. “After 6 months?”

Seungyoon nods easily, almost merrily.

“Isn’t that a bit soon?”

Seungyoon looks confused at this. “Why would it be too soon?”

Seungheon looks like he wants to hit his head against the dinner table.

“You’ve been together 6 months, Seungyoon. You do know that marriage is intended to be a lifelong commitment, that it’s for _life,_ right? It’s not meant to be used as some accessory that you pick up and sign up for a month or two and then drop when you get bored or your three second attention span finds something else it’s suddenly interested in. A wife is not a video game or board game. Or a car. She’s a human being who you’ll be dedicating the rest of your life to.”

“Yah hyung,” Seungyoon says defensively, also looking disgruntled. “I do not have a three second attention span!”

Seungheon raises an incredulous eyebrow.

Seungyoon crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s more like five seconds, alright.”

“Point proven,” Seungheon says dryly. “Fact of the matter stands that a marriage is a big deal and there’s a reason why it’s recommended that you wait until you’re a hundred percent sure you’re making the right choice. That you’ve picked the right person. You’re my younger brother and I know how you are, Seungyoon. I don’t want you rushing into something like this. It’s not fair on you or your fiancée.”

Eunbyul turns to look at Seungheon, quirking an eyebrow. “He is twenty-five, Seungheon. I’m pretty sure he’s capable of making his own decisions by this point.”

“I know that,” Seungheon says, sounding quite terse. “But his… it’s like he still has a child mentality at heart. He’s so…” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I just hope he knows what he’s doing, is all.”

“You sound more like you’re scared of letting him go,” Eunbyul says, smiling despite herself. “Scared of the thought of him growing up and embarking into the big, bad world.”

“It’s probably that,” Seungyoon says breezily, agreeing with Eunbyul. He doesn’t sound permanently offended by anything that’s been said. "He just doesn’t want to see me grow up because I’ll always be his bratty brother to him. Seunghyun was probably the same when you two announced you were getting married.“

"Actually,” Seunghyun begins.

“Shh,” Seungyoon mutters, borderline pouting. “Why can’t you two ever let me say something without it being challenged or contradicted?”

“I was just going to say that everyone knew that Eunbyul and Seungheon were going to end up getting married, even back then. Everyone knows they’re unbreakable, even until this day."

Eunmi smirks, raising an eyebrow as if it’s a challenge specifically designed for her. No one sees this reaction but Eunbyul, whose eyes narrow slightly.  
  
"Basically,” Seunghyun continues. “He’s worried, and just wants you to be as sure as he was.”

Seungyoon nods, processing this. “Then I guess I am.”

“Anyway,” Seunghyun says. “Now we’ve got your happy news announced, I suppose you two haven’t heard ours.”

Eunbyul zones out at the conversation that takes place after this, only just zoning back in when she hears Eunmi’s shrill voice ask, “What about Seungheonnie and Eunbyul, do they have any happy news for us?"

"Seungheon’s probably going to get promoted,” Eunbyul says almost instantaneously, as if she’s prepared herself for such a circumstance. She hadn’t prepared herself to experience it from the mouth of Lee Eunmi, however. “It’s really high paying and important, and he’s honestly the best option for it. Even objectively.”

Eunmi crinkles her nose. “Oh, silly! You know I don’t mean like that. I mean happy news like… are you guys expecting a baby and stuff, too? Can you imagine how cute it’d be if you were both having babies around the same time? They could be like twins!” To everyone else, it sounds like Eunmi’s genuinely excited about such a prospect, but Eunbyul knows it’s ammunition Eunmi can use against her, especially knowing how much their mother-in-law–to be -- for some –- loves the thought of grandchildren.

“No,” Eunbyul says tersely. “Not right now.”

Seungheon’s mother sends a meaningful glance at the couple, eyes hoping. “Pehaps they’ll be next, though.”

Eunmi giggles at this. “Well considering they’ve been married four years and together since way, way longer, and there’s still no baby around… perhaps even me and Seungyoon will beat them in the baby department.”

Eunbyul wants to congratulate herself on how composed she keeps her expression. She officially loathes this topic of conversation.

“It’s not a race,” Seungheon says, quirking an eyebrow at Eunmi.

Eunmi seems to stutter back at this. “O-of course,” she says. “I’m just… I’m just teasing!"

"Right,” Seungheon says dubiously.

“But umma, don’t you ever wonder?"

"Wonder what?”

“Why it’s taking them so long? I mean, it is kind of weird, no?”

There’s a peculiar expression on her mother-in-laws’ face when she looks back at Eunmi. It’s contemplative, like she’s seeing a side of her she didn’t realize was there until now. “They’re busy working at the moment, dear. Sometime in the future perhaps.”

“Well honestly,” Eunmi continues. “Don’t kids kinda finalize a marriage and stuff? It’s kind of… null without them isn’t it?”

And that’s how the night continues, with Eunmi making subtle passive aggressive type comments, trying to wean her way into her mother-in-law to be’s good books, and generally just being a toxic person to be around for Eunbyul, just as she was when they were younger.

Eunbyul excused herself from the kitchen some time ago, going to sit on the living room seat. Which is where she is currently, waiting for Seungheon to leave the kitchen and announce that they’re going home.

Miyeon and Seunghyun are staying over, and after lightly conversing with her a little while ago, called it a day and went to their guest room. She doesn’t know or care where it is Eunmi’s gone, and presumes that Seungyoon is with her.

Finally, after what feels like a century, Seungheon exits the kitchen, glancing at his wife. “Are you ready to go?” He asks.

She’s never got onto her feet quicker. 

  
The drive back isn’t as tense as she was expecting, but she knows Seungheon’s holding something back. She wants nothing more than for the drive to end, for them to return home so she can go to her bed and pretend the day hadn’t even happened. That her worst enemy isn’t going to become her sister-in law, that her husband and herself are apparently not on talking terms but not-not on talking terms to the point where a divorce is on the cards, that it’s obvious her mother-in-law wants them to have children so very badly, but is trying her best not to rush them, that her other sister-in law who is practically the nicest person she’s ever come across is pregnant, and the fact that as happy as she is, and wants to be, there’s a personal factor coming into the mix that’s killing all genuine happiness she should have and replacing it with ache and bitterness.

Something that her sister-in law is the last person to deserve the brunt of.

The minute the car pulls to a stop, Eunbyul’s unclipped her seat belt, opened her car door, left the car and shut the car door and has embarked down the pathway of their home.

Seungheon trails behind her, barely able to catch up with her.

“Eunbyul,” he calls.

“I don’t care,” she replies. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’m going to bed and I don’t want to be woken up tomorrow for anything. If there’s another party, go by yourself. I don’t care. Just leave me out of the picture please.” She inhales a sharp, shaky breath. “I knew I was right this morning when I said it was going to be a bad day, but I take it back. It’s be an awful day.”

He rushes inside the house, looking like he’s debating on pulling her over to him and asking what’s wrong, or on locking the door, or finding some way to do both at once. But pauses in the last second as he lets everything Eunbyul’s said sink in. And rather than do either, stands still, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her in something that appears close to disdain. Or disappointment. Or confusion. Or all of the aforementioned.

“What has been with you today, Eunbyul?”

Eunbyul looks like she wants to scream. But instead says in the most deadpan voice she’s capable of, “Ah, how rich. Whatever the hell this thing is that’s going on I’m pretty sure it’s been going on for months, and you’re apparently only just noticing now that there’s something wrong. How very attentive of you.”

Seungheon scoffs. “I’m not only just noticing now. I’m asking now. And I’m asking what the hell that was. Why it seems as if it’s been building up since this morning.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She says through gritted teeth. “It isn’t it obvious that if I hear the word pregnant or baby one more time today I’ll be this close to tearing my hair out?"

Seungheon’s expression falters, eyebrows drawing together. In confusion, in hurt, in god only knows what else.

"We both know that this is what this entire thing is about Seungheon. We both do. We have since the beginning."

"Yeah,” he whispers, voice sounding smaller than it has the entire day. “And why is that, Eunbyul?”

“Why is what, Seungheon?”

“Why do you seem to have this… aversion to anything connected to anything to do with babies or pregnancies. At least when we’re the main point of said discussion. Why is it that every time it’s brought up, you suddenly become the spokesperson for both of us and have all the answers of avoidance figured out?” He looks like he’s having trouble coming to terms with it. “Why is it that you…” Voice falling into a whisper.

“Why is it that I what, Seungheon?” Eunbyul’s voice sounding more detached than it ever has done in all his years of knowing her.

“Won’t even tell her that we’re planning, or even trying?"

"Because we’re not,” she says emotionless. “And we won’t be.”

Seungheon seems astounded at this. “But that’s not… that’s not even true, Eunbyul."

"Then enlighten me, how isn’t it true?”

He looks like she’s just physically struck him. “Eunbyul…”

“What?!"

"Not trying now, okay, I’ll give you that. But to say that we won’t be…” He takes a deep breath, gaze elsewhere. “How can you even contemplate the thought of saying that. Especially after…”

“After what, Seungheon?”

“For as long as we’ve been together, Eunbyul, that’s what. I know it’s been a long time, but you know as well as I do how many conversations we’ve had about these kinds of topics. How back when we were dating you’d talk so fondly of starting a family.” He pauses. “With me. For when we got married. And I can understand if you’d said it all in passing back then, as some idealistic dream that wasn’t going to come into fruition, especially if we didn’t work out and didn’t get married. But we did, Eunbyul. We’re here now. And every second that goes by the future we discussed in depth and in passing is arriving, and I just can’t seem to comprehend why speaking of it seems to offend you so greatly. How it seems like you’re so set on copping out of it, like you’re not interested in it any more. As hard as I try, Eunbyul, I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Eunbyul stays quiet.

“And I understand if you want to wait, or you’re still not ready for children currently, of course we still have time. But at the exact same time, it has been four years and with every moment that passes, you seem to grow more adverse to even the thought of it. And as much as I wish I could understand, I can’t. I still feel the same about it as I did back then, perhaps even more fond. And for you to suddenly become the spokesperson on this topic for us when we evidently have conflicting opinions, I don’t think that’s fair, Eunbyul. I don’t think that’s fair at all.”

“You’re an idiot,” she hisses, seconds away from stomping away.  
  
But he pulls her back before she has chance, tone surprisingly more contained than his wife’s. “I’m an idiot? Why am I an idiot, Eunbyul?”

She struggles to get out of his hold, but after several attempts and no results, finally gives up, allowing him to pull her closer, to hold her gently against him. “What changed, Eunbyul?”

“I failed you,” she finally whispers after several seconds of tense silence. “And if you can’t understand what I mean by that, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”

He knows there’s an underlying meaning to her words, so tells himself not to worry too much about the 'maybe we shouldn’t be together’ line, that she’s likely just using it to emphasize just how big a thing she means.

“Plus,” she says. “I guess Eunmi is right. That she always was right. Always will be right.” He hears a sniffle, and tightens his hold on his wife, gently interlocking their fingers. He hates it when she cries.

“What is she right about?”

“The fact that I’m not good enough for you.” There’s another sniffle. “That you can do better.”

It’s like she can hear him rolling his eyes. “Please tell me we’re not going back to this again. You know as well as anyone that it’s not true and I’ve never thought as much. Eunbyul, I’ve always, always considered us equals and I always will. We’re both as deserving as each other as the other, and hence why we’re together. No one is above anyone else. Some silly girl with a silly opinion who became an immature woman won’t ever change that. You know that for a fact."

She tightens her hold on him this time. "And I started to believe it,” she whispers. “But then…” There’s another sniffle. “Then I proved it to myself that you really can do better. And as much as I hate her, she’s right.”

“Eunbyul…"

She glances up at him with make-up stained eyes. "Does your brother even know she still has a thing for you even until this day?”

There’s a groan at this. “Eunmi is engaged to him, Eunbyul. Let’s not even entertain that thought.”

“Well, why not? It’s true.”

“No it’s no–”

“Yes, it is.” There’s an angry puff of a breath. “I know you can’t see it, Seungheon but whatever was there in the past hasn’t disappeared. On either side. She still wants you and she still loathes me. Like legitimately hates me, do you know what it’s like to be in a room with someone who wants to gut you, Seungheon? Do you? Every time she looks my way there’s loathe in her eyes and then how she jumped at every opportunity to throw a dig my way or to suck up to your mother and get praise and brag about how many children they’re going to have. And.” Eunbyul shivers, the bad kind. “Children.”

Seungheon frowns, and after he’s quickly locked the door, navigates them to the sofa, sitting his wife in his lap. He reaches over to wipe her tears. “How is it you manage to still look beautiful even when you cry?"

"No,” Eunbyul sniffles. “Not when Eunmi’s…”

Seungheon’s already tired of the name, but Eunbyul’s still not done with the conversation of Eunmi, and he knows it’s best to let her rant. “Not when Eunmi’s what, darling?"

"Not when Eunmi’s right!” There’s something of a sniffle and a hiccup this time. “Not when Eunmi’s always right. Ever since we were younger she’s been right. Always flaunting how superior she is to me any chance she gets. When we were in middle school it’d be of how she was smarter because she did a little bit better in some tests here and there. Then in high school it’d be how she was prettier, and then since she had more friends -– because she probably either forced them to be her friends by threatening them or bought them -– how everyone thought that Eunmi had a better personality. Then it’d be trivial things like 'oh Eunmi has deeper double eyelids’ or 'Eunmi’s got bigger boobs’ or 'Lee Eunmi this, Lee Eunmi that'.” She takes a deep breath. “And honestly, that I don’t care. Whatever to all that. But why does she have to be right about…”

“She’s not,” Seungheon insists.

“But she is! I’m just a stupid excuse for a woman and for a wife and I can’t make anyone happy. It might seem that I can at first but then something goes wrong and regardless of how far away from her I distance myself, she’s right. Maybe she is the better option for you.” But after a second, Eunbyul shakes her head. “But, no. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but she sure as hell doesn’t deserve you either."

"Eunbyul…"

Eunbyul dabs at her eyes, looking at him sadly. "You probably think she’s prettier, too.”

“What?"

Eunbyul’s eyes are puffy. "She looked so pretty tonight, didn’t you think so?”

“Well, I guess? She wasn’t exactly what I was focusing on, nor cared to."

"She didn’t do it for your brother, Seungheon. She only dresses up like that for you.”

Seungheon lets out an exasperated sigh. “How can you know that…?”

“You have to be blind if you haven’t seen the way she looks at you. You have to be.”

“Well, I guess I’m blind then.”

“You just weren’t looking!"

"Touche, but…"

There’s another sniffle. "The thing I hate most though, is…”

“What?”

“How she manages to make me feel like the home wrecker with my own husband?”

“Eunbyul, that’s ridiculous. No honestly, that’s beyond ridiculous. It’s been 11 years since that petty crush, obviously she’s over it now.”  
  
“It wasn’t just a petty crush though, that’s what you don’t understand! She was…” Eunbyul takes a deep breath. “She was in love with you. And perhaps she’s not in love with you now, perhaps she does feel something in that soulless pit she calls a heart for your brother but… it’ll never outgrow the thirst she had for you, okay. How she’d do anything to ruin us. Which she would. I know that for a fact.”

“Honestly, it sounds more like she’s obsessed with you than anything else.”

“Maybe so,” Eunbyul says. “But that’s exactly that. She doesn’t like me being happy. You make me happy, so therefore she’ll try everything to sabotage that. To sabotage us. She was out for war tonight. I could see it in her eyes.” There’s a pause of deliberation. “And she could tell, you know. She knew. That we have a… problem. That things aren’t going so great for us. I think she knows what it is that’s happened, too. And I hate that. I hate it more than anything else. Because she’s evil and when evil knows something about you that no one else does, evil uses it against you. It’s their manipulation trick. It’s their ammunition. All she needs is proof and then…” There’s a shiver. “I don’t even know what."

Seungheon grows serious, sitting up. "Well whatever this thing that’s happened is, I’d like to know too.”

Eunbyul gulps.

“Eunbyul, please. If you can’t me what’s stopping you, then I don’t know what else to do. Please just tell me what’s changed. We can’t keep going on like this.”

There’s a pause as she fiddles with her thumbs.

Seungheon winces. “Eunbyul, did… something happen?”

She furrows her eyebrows, glancing up at him confusedly. “What?”

“I don’t know if I’m overreaching here but it keeps happening and I don’t know if I can force myself to ignore it any more. You seem to flinch away every time I even advance to hug you, Eunbyul. Not exactly jump back, but freeze up when I try and hold your hand. Struggle away from me. Things along those lines and it’s making me think that…” He takes a deep breath. “If anything happened, please don’t be afraid to tell me. I promise I won’t be mad. If anything did happen, it wasn’t your fault, okay?"

"N-no,” she chokes, burying her face into his chest. “It’s not anything like that, I promise.”

He nods. “Then that leaves me with only one other plausible concern. Or conclusion. Or worry. Or all of the aforementioned.”

“A-and what’s that?”

“The fear that you don’t love me any more, Eunbyul.” His eyes are closed when she looks at him. “And I want to be wrong, I want to convince myself that there’s no way that it can be true but… all the evidence is… seems to be pointing in that direction.” He sighs. “And now the fact that you’re so adamant that I can do better, as perhaps it will seem like a gentle way of letting me down? Or that you even mentioned breaking up today… Eunbyul--” He clears his throat. “Have you fallen out of love with me?"

Eunbyul’s so taken aback by how absurd it seems to her that her mind feels like it’s stopped processing, that it’s frozen on the spot. She can’t seem to formulate words, she can’t seem to articulate anything. And time must have passed, because the next thing she knows is that Seungheon’s detached himself, detached them and has shuffled away from her, a wince on his features.

"I see,” he whispers, taking her silence and delayed response as her answer.  
  


 

 

Sanghyuk blinks. “So what happened then?” He asks, more intrigued than he’d expected to be at the recollection of memories.

His mother pauses. “I let him go.” There’s a furrow to her eyebrows. “Or didn’t say anything, just let him take his own interpretation from it, even though it was entirely off. And then we went on a break. A break that only us two knew about. And it was horrendous. And I hated every second of it. But things began to brighten up after some time, Hyukkie. And that’s why I’ll always promote the concept of letting things off your chest and saying things you need to say and talking about things you’re afraid to talk about when you still have the chance. Maybe the person it’s directed at is in the exact same position, and doesn’t know how to breech it. Perhaps they have genuinely no idea what it is that’s going on and feel left in the dark. There’s a million and one different scenarios, but I know that things can be cleared up. That people can get passed obstacles they don’t believe they’re capable of. That there is a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Sanghyuk nods his head jollily. “Finish the story though, umma. I want to hear!”

She giggles. “Your wish is my command.”

 

 

They’d been living separately for about a month, at least as much as they could with their shared house.

Seungheon enthralled himself so deeply into his work that it became all he focused on for some time. Things grew increasingly more awkward and strained between them and it seemed like he wasn’t even able to glance her way. At least not any more.

She so badly wanted to clear things up, but never found the courage. At least not until this particular day.

“Seungheon?” Eunbyul whispers, surprised to find him sitting on her bed, glancing at their framed photograph beside their bedside, something she still hasn’t taken down. Something she won’t take down.

He seems momentarily stunned at her sudden appearance. “I, uh… I have something I need to tell you, Eunbyul.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

There’s a pause. “I got the promotion.”

The happiness and proudness she originally feels seems to be replaced by the realization that the promotion entails a new area of work, which is in a different city and as far away from that city as they currently are would mean…

The light in her eyes dims. “Ah,” she says, voice sounding small. “So you’re… moving out?”

Seungheon nods.

“I guess we should celebrate…?” She then clears her throat, shaking her head. “Not celebrate you moving out of course, but the promotion if… I have no idea where I’m going with this but I have a question too and I’d really appreciate if you answered it.”

Seungheon looks mildly amused. “What is it?”

She takes a deep breath. “Are we… still?"

There’s a pause, he looks hesitant. "Do you want us to be?"

"I do,” she says almost instantaneously. “Do you?”

“I do.”

 

  
“So then you lived happily ever after right?”

Sanghyuk’s mother shakes her head. “I’m afraid not.”

Sanghyuk furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t… I don’t get it.”

His mother chuckles softly.

“Relationships are weird.”

“That they are.”

“I don’t get them either.”

“We didn’t solve everything then, because even if technically still together and wanting to be together even though he thought I didn’t love him any more, I didn’t stop him. I didn’t tell him not to go.”

Sanghyuk sends a confused glance his mother’s way. “Why not move in with him in the new house?”

“Because I’m a idiot, obviously.” She nods to herself. “But every answer to every question he had, I blurted out drunkenly, the first time I visited him. Which is not an example I want to ever set to you, please don’t ever think so.”

“It’s not like I’m ever going to live it umma, it’s fine.” He says this in a very blase manner, as though he doesn’t mind one bit.

“Hyukkie,” she whispers, wincing. His mother still minds.

“Sorry.”

 

“I was going to knock,” Eunbyul says as Seungheon makes his way inside, after work. Or at least that’s what she presumes, until she sees the corner store shopping bags in his hands. Which also explains why the door was open. “But then I tried the handle because apparently I don’t know boundaries and it opened and then I felt guilty and I was going to wait outside until you returned but it’s so cold and–”

“We’re married,” he says. “It’s not like you’re trespassing.”

“But I kind of am,” she whispers. “Since we’re… well… I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it’s going on, if you want to get really philosophical about it. Of course.”

He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Have you been drinking?”

“A little bit.”

“How much is a little bit?”

“Honestly only a few glasses.”

“I have some left here, if you want to help me finish them off? I know we don’t usually drink, but…”  
  


Eunbyul’s had more than Seungheon, and Seungheon’s barely even past the stage of tipsy, whilst Eunbyul has begun to converse with inanimate objects.

She giggles. “Did you know I had one of those days today where I didn’t care what happened to me and would’ve probably welcomed being hit by a bus, isn't that cool.”

“Because that’s not giving me a totally worrying picture of your current mental state, at all.” He sighs. “You know you’re welcome here any time you want. I’m not going to kick you out. In fact,” he moves closer. “I want you to move in here, even more so after what you’ve just said. But I don’t want to rush it, especially not if you don’t feel the way you did bef–”

“Can you stop saying that?”

Seungheon stops, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing’s changed, okay?! And even then, it hadn’t. I was just… surprised that you’d consider it a possibility. Because it’s not, okay? It’s never been. Never ever ever.”

“You’re drunk,” Seungheon insists. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” she mumbles, scooting closer to him, and linking their arms.

“And I know something else, too.”

“What’s that?”

“That I miss you.” She snuggles into his arm. “And I’m sorry for failing you.”

He tilts her chin up, noticing the moisture flooding into her eyes. “Will you ever tell me what that means, Eunbyul?”

“It means I’m a bad person, or at least I tell myself everyday. That I’ll never forgive myself, and I know if you knew you’d never forgive me too. And that’s why I didn’t chase you, because I thought that if I did, you would’ve found out and left by your own will. And I wasn’t ready to accept that.”

There’s a lost look in her eyes, one he’s seen far too often in the past few months. One he thinks about at night, the same look that keeps him up at night, wondering of ways in which he could help take the look away and put in its place one of brightness, of clarity. Of happiness. Security. Anything other than pain, the look of being lost, of not knowing what to do. “But I think I’ll never forgive myself if you don’t know what we could’ve had, probably by now.”

“What could we have had, baby?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “What you just said,” she whispers softly, sorrowful tone taken over. “I like to think she was a girl, and I’d planned the perfect day to tell you and how it was going to go down, where we’d be, where we’d be when we told your mother. Even what it was she’d look like, who it was she’d look more like. But then I woke up one day and I knew something had gone wrong, it was like I knew I’d lost her before I knew I’d lost her, if that makes any sense.”

She takes a deep breath. “And I was right. She was gone.”

 

 

Sanghyuk can tell that even now she still thinks about it. He can tell she still wonders about her, about what she’d look like, where she’d be. How different their lives would be with her in it. He can tell she still blames herself, that she’ll never forget her, no matter how many days, months or years pass.

And he knows she’ll be the same when he goes.

“How did appa react?”

“In a few ways. One was relief–in finding out what actually happened and why I’d been acting so… off for so long, and what he could do to help. Then there was grief, and he let me cry as much as I needed to. Let me get angry. But he never let me blame myself. There was always reassurance that it wasn’t my fault, and though he told me he’d never paint it behind this frilly curtain of 'perhaps it was meant to be’ or 'it’s what God intended’ and would say that yes, what happened was awful for him and for me, and he didn’t know the reasons why it happened or why it had to be us, and that he wished with every fiber of his being that she’d made it… it wasn’t my fault.  
He said he’d repeat it to me for however long it took for me to believe it, and he still says it now. Then came a healing process, and a rebuilding of trust. Then us talking about it whenever we needed, us talking about anything and everything. Us talking in general. Like I said before, talking helps smooth over old wounds, it helps cover miscommunication, it covers so much. And then finally, we had hope. To start again. And now we have you."

Sanghyuk nods, processing this.

"I was honestly terrified, at the heart of it, however. Even more so than the time before. Which I had every right to be, apparently. But I still had–have–this habit of blaming myself, and I don’t think it’s ever going away. No matter how hard I try.” She edges closer to his bedside.

Sanghyuk furrows his eyebrows. “Terrified?” He’s heard about a variety of different reactions when a person is pregnant, which is why he finds himself asking the next question before he can fully process it. “After what happened with… well, before… did it turn out I wasn’t wanted?”

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel if that is the case, and is beginning to wonder why he asked a question in which the answer he may not be able to deal with. He puts it down to his seemingly insatiable curiosity.

His mother Eunbyul winces as if she’s been physically struck. “Hyukkie,” her voice is stern, earnest. “Don’t ever repeat that to me again, okay? You were and continue to be the most wanted child on this entire planet.”

Sanghyuk’s eyebrows furrow once more. “But being terrified is a negative emotion, is it not? So to be terrified of your child means to–”

“Darling,” she cuts him off. “You’re going down the wrong track. It’s no lie that I was terrified, yes. Not terrified of you, as such, but terrified that I…” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “That I would’ve lost you. Just like I lost…” She takes a breath. “I realize I’ve said this before but I really do. I felt that she was a girl, you know? Obviously I can never prove it, but I just felt that… she would’ve been a girl. That you would’ve had an older sister.”

“A noona,” Sanghyuk whispers.

“It’s not fair,” his mother says, dabbing at her eyes. “None of it is fair. After I lost your sister I thought that there’d be no way I’d ever have the blessing of having another child. I thought I was doomed to be in that position forever. And then when I had you, it was like holding the world in my arms, and I knew from the minute you got here that we’d love you more than anything else. That you’d be our pride and joy. Something in me told me that you were all we needed, that we were all going to make it. Together. And then I got so angry at myself when I realized that… once again.” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “The world wanted to take you from me, too.”

Somehow she manages to smile. “And as crazy as it may sound, I still have hope, Hyukkie. Hope that you’ll beat the odds. Something within me tells me that you have the strength and capability to do something extraordinary. And it’s there in you, somewhere. I know it.” She reaches out to grasp his hand. “So I need you to promise me and appa that you will try your hardest, and that you will fight with every fiber of your being to pull through for this next operation. Can you promise me that?”

“I…” He wants to, he really does. But something tells him that it’d just be an empty promise, and he’s always considered lying to his mother worse than playing along with this seemingly false hope she holds. Even if when he thinks about it, he’s kind of doing both at the same time. Which is worrying and unsettling for him. Because he genuinely believes he has the best parents on the planet, and that they deserve nothing but the best.

Sometimes he doesn’t feel like the best.

“Mindset is so important Hyukkie. And if you’re willing to try, just know I’m always by your side and I will never, ever give up on you. You know that, right?”

“Yes umma,” his voice is softer than before. And he nods to himself, propping himself to ask the next question. “Also, there are happy memories, too, right? Can we hear those next?”

“Of course we can.” His mother smiles down at him. “But only if I get a hug first, okay? You’re getting to this stage where you think you’re too grown for umma hugs, but no child is ever too grown for umma hugs.”

Sanghyuk’s nose crinkles. “Fine,” he grumbles, letting her reach over and wrap her arms around his frame.

"Like I said earlier,” his mother begins gently. “Appa didn’t know about you for the first few months. And I hadn’t moved in to the new place by this point, still.”

Sanghyuk quirks an eyebrow at this. “Why not?”

“I can’t give you a direct answer to that, darling. I guess the only way to explain it, is the overall feeling of it? It had to be the right time, the perfect moment. I didn’t know when that moment would come around, especially not by date basis, I just had faith I’d experience it at some point. That I’d know I’d be experiencing it as I experienced it, if that makes any sense?”

“Not particularly,” Sanghyuk says, eyeing his mother wearily. "But I guess it worked out?“

His mother nods, it’s a small movement. A gentle smile paints her lips. “Me not living with him officially in the new place didn’t mean that I wasn’t interacting with him on a regular basis, however. I would visit every other day. We’d go for lunch, we’d watch TV. We were still married. Just not cohabiting any longer. It was a strange phase of life.”

Sanghyuk nods his head, but his mother can see he’s becoming slightly restless—physically restless—and she wishes she had something to help. Unfortunately, she doesn’t.

"And then we started working for the same company, which was even more weird.”

“Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to move to the same city, too?”

“Essentially, yes. I wasn’t working full time here, by this point, however. So your father would let me stay over on the days I was working there. And then came the next surprise for everyone. Well, honestly, it came before I started working there, but.”

Sanghyuk stifles a chuckle at this. “No matter the order, I have a feeling that tone of voice is reserved for Eunmi and Eunmi alone.”

His mother nods. “The thing was, Seungheon was very high up in the working ranks by this point, and held one of the most prestigious positions in this company, thus worked on a different floor and on some days in the building opposite us. Sometimes the one up the street. This floor and the other two buildings were designated for different compartments of the work. It was an odd hiring process, actually.”

"How so?”

  
“Seungheon came home—which obviously wasn’t my official place of residence by this point—one day, and asked me to draw a few things for him, not telling me what they were for. So happily, I obliged.  
Drawing was always an escape for me, something that allowed me to escape reality for a few hours at least—and obviously that was an opportunity I’d jump at the chance at, given recent events at this time.  
Then, lo and behold, a week or two later—if I haven’t already said, he didn’t tell me anything about what the drawings were for, where they were going—a letter came through the post. A letter addressed to me, I didn’t snoop through his mail or anything like that, I promise. It had my name on it and was genuinely addressed to me.  
So once opened, a letter telling me I’d been called and accepted for an interview for a job I’d apparently applied for two weeks prior.”

"Appa’s pretty sneaky sometimes, isn’t he.”

Eunbyul sends her son a flat look. “You can say that again.”

“So what happened next?”

“I questioned him the minute he stepped foot inside the house. He didn’t avoid any questions, and answered them all with ease. Except one he had a little hesitancy with.”

 

 

“You know,” she says, and he hears her before he sees her. “Sometimes there are happenings in life that make you question if you got blindly drunk the night before and did something you have no recollection of, more so than that, like your husband has signed up you up for something without an inkling of your knowledge. I’m sure you know about the latter. Would you say so, Seungheon?”

Closing the door behind him, he knows his wife is speaking, but he can’t make out the entirety of her sentences. Unlacing his shoes—he’s always had this habit of making the process as meticulous as he possibly can do—he places his shoes to the side of the door, knowing he’ll need to be wearing them the next morning. Once he locks the door, he makes his way inside the living room, to find her lazily sprawled against the couch in quite an awkward looking position, her hair falling from the edge of said piece of furniture. She’s laying on her back, and glancing—perhaps glaring—at her nails. She doesn’t look his way.

He smiles to himself. “Sorry I’m a little late, we had a little more to do than usual at work today.”

Eunbyul scoffs to herself, still refusing to face him. “There’s no need to apologize to a mere visitor as to why you’re late to your own home.”

He blinks at this. “I know, but.” He pauses. “Also, you’re not just a mere visitor, you’re my wife.”

She shrugs, and the movement is quite complacent. “I don’t live here.”

He nods, eyebrows slightly furrowing. “I know, but…”

“It’s not like I have the honor of knowing everything that happens behind these grand walls of yours, anyway.”

He edges closer, a worried expression morphing onto his features. “Did something happen?”

She crinkles her nose at him. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one receiving the letters, after all.”

Seungheon surreptitiously eyes his desk, gaze falling onto a batch of letters. Five, in total. Four are completely sealed, one opened. He turns back to Eunbyul, expression questioning.

“It was addressed to me,” she says blandly. “Starting to wish I didn’t open it, in fact.”

He blinks, giving himself time to process this. “Did they not invite you for an interview?” He seems to sigh in disappointment. “That’s completely ridiculous, especially considering the art piece of yours I sent them… I was sure that would have—”

“Tch,” Eunbyul says, interrupting her husband. “I definitely got invited for an interview.”

His eyes seem to light up at this. “That’s great! But also exactly what I was expecting, considering your talent for art can’t be reciprocated for miles and they’d be fools not to consider you for this job position because—”

“Then it’s okay if I’m the one to turn them down, then? Great!” Her grin is a little too exaggerated for Seungheon’s liking, it’s not her natural smile at all. Neither is the tone of voice she’s adopted. “Because I’m not going.”

He comes to a halt at this. “Wait,” he whispers, flabbergasted. “What?”

Eunbyul shrugs easily. “I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“Well one,” she says, sitting up. “I wasn’t told I’d sent an application in for this job. Two, I don’t have any current desire to take a job under my wing. Especially in a city I don’t currently live in. Three, travel expenses. Four, it involves art. Five—which may be reiterating on number one but is still ticking me off—you signed me up for something without even telling me so. Why would you do that?”

Seungheon’s silent.

She scoffs at this, rolling around to face the other side of the couch. "I knew you wouldn’t be able to answer that last question. I knew it.“

"I… don’t understand, Eunbyul.”

“And why the hell not? Do you know how much pressure this puts on my shoulders?!”

He seems to roll his eyes at this. “Not that…"

She shoots up into a sitting position, eyes narrowing. "Oh, of course. Not that. What I consider the biggest worry here is the least of yours, huh? Fantastic.” She huffs as she gets up onto her feet. “I’m not going.”

“Eunbyul… can you at least let me finish?” He edges closer, gently urging her to sit back down. “Can we talk about this?”

“Just like we talked about the job application, hm?” Her eyes are like ice. “I can’t believe this. I don’t get paid enough for this. Jesus, I barely get paid at all!”

“Which is exactly what I’m trying to change,” Seungheon says. “Eunbyul, will you let me explain why I did it?–Why I have so much faith that it’s perfect for you?–Everything you need and more?”

“Can’t exactly stop you,” she grumbles.

“Not only does it allow you to prioritize your passion, it pays you for it. Pays you to make a career out of your passion. Not only is it located in the city, meaning you’d have much closer access–granted you move here–the pay for full-time work here is miles better than all of your side jobs combined. It’s like Charlie’s golden ticket, except well, Eunbyul’s golden ticket. It’s everything you need.”

Her nose crinkles. “Yeah, if I’m a soulless human being,” she hisses. “What you said really only indicates that you’re not seeing it from my perspective in the slightest.”

“I’ve concluded as such from your behavior,” he says. “What I can’t seem to comprehend is why."

She raises an eyebrow at this.

"I’m not wrong in thinking art is your passion, am I?”

“No.”

“Then shouldn’t the opportunity of making a living from it–being able to emerge yourself into your passion every day of your life–inspire you?–Shouldn’t you be jumping at the chance of being hired for this position?”

Her expression sours, and for a good minute Seungheon feels like she’s judging him. “You don’t get it,” she finally mutters.

He quirks an eyebrow. “What don’t I get?”

“The fact, that, as much as I love art, as much as I enjoy creating it and emerging myself into it, it’s not something I want to share with other people. It’s not something I want anyone else in on, and I definitely can’t market off of it. Hell, it’d be like selling my soul or something.”

Seungheon seems bewildered. “You’re… something else,” he whispers, and though doesn’t seem entirely ready to admit defeat on this topic, decides to turn it elsewhere, knowing he can return to prior topic tomorrow. And thereafter. Until she’s convinced. He’s kind of lying through his teeth when he says, “but the more I think about your view on this, the more it makes sense to me. Perhaps you’re right, too.” Though there's a twinkle in his eyes Eunbyul doesn't catch onto.

Eunbyul nods enthusiastically. “There’s no perhaps about it, I am!”

Knowing her mind is quite evidently set at the moment, he decides he'll try convincing her to give it a try later, when she's had time to mull it over and consider it from his perspective. “Are you staying tonight?"

Eunbyul turns to him, wide eyed. "Wow,” she says, glancing at the clock and then back at him. “I didn’t even notice! Look how late it’s gotten…” Her eyebrows furrow. “Since when…?”

Seungheon sends a fond smile her way.

“Surprisingly, I’m not even tired."

"Same here,” he says. But this comes as no surprise to either of them. He’s always been a night owl.

She huffs out a breath. “Say I did stay, what would we do?–I really don’t think I’ll be able to sleep yet."

Seungheon’s quiet for some time. Finally, he says, "we could bake."

Eunbyul sends an incredulous glance his way. "Who bakes at this time of night?"

"Well it’s not as though there’s a set time for baking, is there? You’re allowed to bake at any given moment, granted you feel like it.”

She hums, deliberating this. “That’s true,” she mulls. “But what would we be baking?”

“Cookies.” He pauses for a second. “I have some leftover mixture I need to use up.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Leftover? Why’s that?”

“There’s an upcoming event at work, and we’ve kind of been asked–or at least, it was heavily implied–that we help out with food and treats. I feel cookies would be an adequate addition, so…”

“And here I was thinking you’d decided to do something impromptu. For bonding or something. Hm.”

He chuckles sheepishly.

Eunbyul’s eyes narrow in contemplation. “You want me to decorate them too, don’t you?”

“It would help…”

 

The next morning – a Saturday – she’s awoken much, much too early for her liking.

In her moments of sheer grogginess the day of the week doesn’t seem to dawn on her, so she thinks it’s Seungheon getting up for work. “Is it that time already?” She grumbles, wincing at the light invading her vision as Seungheon draws the curtains back.

“It’s a Saturday,” he says. “But yes, it is that time already.”

“You know for a night owl, you wake up ridiculously early most days. It’s pretty unnerving.”

“Kind of what happens when you’re on a strict schedule every day of the week.”  
  
She hums. “I’ve been wondering though. If I’m neither a morning person or night owl, what does that make me?"

"An anomaly,” Seungheon teases. “Eunbyul, like I’m sure you’re already aware, there’s a reason I’m waking you up this early.”

She snorts. “Because you’re evil and like to see me in pain, yes I’m already aware of this. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“The interview is in three days,” his voice sounds too lilting for it to be this early in the morning.

She grinds her teeth together, having had a feeling he wasn’t entirely done with this conversation. Why did she have to be right? “Nope,” she says bitingly.  
  
“Eunbyul…”

“Nope, nope, nope.” Pulling the blankets over her head and burying herself in them, she chants a “I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you~”

  
He perches on the edge of the bed whilst navigating around the blankets, taking a lock of her hair and gently twirling it around his finger, sending a gentle glance her way as he wonders why she has to make some things so difficult. “When a person receives an invite, It’s common courtesy to at least show up, you know. Even if turns out that you won’t be hired–which I know you’re going to try your hardest not to be, with whatever stunt you intend on pulling in the instance you do attend said interview–my soul can at least be put to rest by the fact that you’re attending the interview and therefore at least putting some effort into searching for a full time job.”

He can tell she’s rolling her eyes at him from underneath the blankets. “Why do I even need a full time job?"

"Because as nice as your collection of current part time jobs may be, they’re not going to make a long-lasting career, nor earn you a sustainable wage.”

“Well yeah,” she grumbles, not naive enough to even attempt to argue with this. It’s something she’s already well aware of. “But why does it have to be linked with art?”

He sighs at this. “One, because you have a genuine talent you’d be wasting say you not make a career out of it. And two, it’s always been your passion. Working in an area that is a person’s passion is a chance the majority of the population would jump at. But for some reason… you consider it to akin to selling your soul, which I’m still having the hardest time wrapping my head around, if I’m honest.”

She crinkles her nose at him. “Probably because you don’t possess a soul to begin with, so…” She turns her back to him. “I don’t have to justify why I feel the way I do about this. Why can’t you just accept the fact that I do feel the way I do about this and it isn’t going to change?”

“Because this job could solve so many other factors, also. You don’t seem to be taking them into account.”

“Then what are they?”

“One, an advancement into a full time career –- something you’ve been putting off for however long, that frankly is getting to a point where you won’t be able to put it off any longer, which I’m sure you’re already aware. Two, a higher paying job means you’ll have more money on the side to save or spend on yourself, plus added in with this is the feeling of independence from earning your higher paying wage. Then if we combine the two wages together, there’s so much we could do. So much we could invest in. More holidays and so forth. Three, distance is covered. As is finance.”

She blinks at the last two. “Distance and finance are covered? How so? If the job is here and I’m currently living in a different city, the distance is not only doubled but so is the cost of getting here as I’ll be here a lot more often.”

He seems to suppress a sigh. “Obviously I’m discussing this entire prospect with the factor of you moving in, in mind, Eunbyul.”

She seems to cower back at this. “Why would I do that?”

“Obviously so you can get to work quicker and at a cheaper price. Plus, you’ve always told me that you’re a lot fonder of big cities in comparison to countryside and towns. You’ve always said the latter were too stifling –- especially where we used to live. That you’d prefer to be located in a bigger city, that you enjoy the freedom that entails.”

“Well perhaps that was just an idealistic dream I had before coming here and experiencing what it’s really like, okay? Before I realized just how hellish big –- the biggest cities -–can be.” She seems to mumble the next part, “before I realized just how rude city-dwellers could be.”

“Regards of which area of the country you inhabit, you’re going to encounter rude people, Eunbyul. That’s a given. No matter where you go on this planet, that same sentiment will still stand.”

“But at least when you’re further from the big cities, the less you notice it! The fuss, the rush, the haste, the people pushing past you–it’s so subdued in comparison! I could legitimately drop dead on the street here and no one would care! They’d just bustle past, better yet, grit their teeth and complain about it!"

She seems to shudder. "I don’t ever want to become that soulless, Seungheon. Big cities would try to make me that soulless. How am I supposed to live here.”

“So you’d prefer to live alone for the rest of our lives?”

She blinks as if she’d never considered this to be a prospect.

“Because that’s what will end up happening if we don’t make a negotiation at some point. Personally, I hate being in this place alone. I miss you so often lately. When you’re gone and even when you’re here. Mainly because I know it’s temporary, that you’ll be leaving soon. Then I end up focusing on the time we’ve got together when we are together, counting down the hours until I know you’re minutes away from leaving, and I hate myself for it. And even if you’ve recently come to the conclusion you dislike big cities after such a long time of claiming you wanted to live in one…” he takes a breath. “I know you dislike living alone, also.”

Eunbyul doesn’t respond.

“I know you dislike sleeping alone. Eating alone. Going grocery shopping alone. Should I go on? What use is living alone doing for either of us, Eunbyul?”

Eunbyul contemplates it for a while. “Maybe making me see that the grass isn’t greener on the other side. Maybe it’s making me realize that unlike you I don’t have big city dreams in the sense of jobs and wage earnings, that these little jobs here and there are completely fine for me at the moment. That they’re keeping me on my toes. Maybe it’s making me realize what it is I actually want to do in life… just in another form than the jobs I’m currently taking part in.”

“And what is it you actually want to do in life, Eunbyul? –- All this time I’ve been presuming it was art.”

“It was,” she whispers. “And still is. But…”

“But what, Eunbyul? What else is captivating you so much?”

She glances at her palms, seeming a lot more demure all of a sudden. Perhaps even shy. “I can’t say.”

“Yes you can.”

It’s quiet for some time. “Helping children,” she eventually whispers. “Teaching children. Being an influencing factor in their lives. Someone they can lean on, learn from. Trust.” There’s a soft smile gracing her lips. “I always imagine their innocent little faces lighting up as they discover something new. Something that is so simplistic to us, but it’s the discovery of the world to them. Their endless curiosity. Their brightness. Being a part of the reason for that. It’s always been my dream.” She gulps back an apparent lump in her throat. “But I was always afraid… I’m always afraid. Terrified, even.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m jealous,” she whispers. She doesn’t look pleased at this. Definitely not proud of herself. “Jealous that…” She sighs as if trying to collect and formulate her thoughts. “Not at the children, but… kind of… at their parents. What it is these parents share with the children. What it is they get to experience. How no matter what I’d be able to teach the children, no matter if I give it my all in teaching and helping them develop as individuals… they’re always going to return back to the parents, cite their parents as their main influencing factors in life, their favorite people. I’ll just be a distant memory in the future to them, perhaps even entirely forgotten.” Her eyes are downcast. “And that scares me.”

There’s a pause, where she collects her breath. “But not only that. I know I’ll encounter children who are mistreated, I know I’ll encounter children that are pressured to live and behave a certain way, children that are made to feel inferior, that already have deep rooted insecurities within them, even at their young age. Children that are abused, hurt on a daily basis. And I…” She lets out a shaky breath. “I can’t sit back and do nothing about that, Seungheon. I can’t let that kind of injustice slide, and I definitely can’t wrap my head around the fact that these awful beings get to have something I never will do. Because no, they don’t deserve it. Especially if they’re not willing to give their all and make their children’s lives the best they possibly can do.” There’s another pause. “I dream of helping children. But I’m human, and I’m inherently flawed. I get too attached. I get too involved. I get too protective.”

She can’t meet his eyes. “And jealous. Jealous they have something I don’t. Perhaps never will.”

“You don’t know that,” Seungheon says softly.

She doesn’t reply, but he can see the sadness pooling into her eyes. He reaches over to grasp her hand, entwining it with his gently.

“It’s not a now or never matter, Eunbyul."

"But–”

“I promise you it isn’t.”

She nods lightly, but he can tell she isn’t entirely convinced. He knows she won’t stop blaming herself. As if she sees no other option, she turns the conversation elsewhere. It’s something she always does when she opens up, haunted by a fear of vulnerability. “Maybe you’re right.” She clears her throat, as if to make it sound like she’s more convinced than what she actually is. “About the new job. The interview.”

He sends a gentle glance her way. “You’re sure?”

“No.” She lets out a half hearted chuckle. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. “Really?"

"Not really,” she admits. “But it’ll bother me if I throw it to the side without even considering attempting it, you know?”

He nods.

“I kind of have a bad feeling about something, though.” She turns to look at him. “I don’t know what that something is though.”

 

Three days later comes much too soon for Eunbyul’s liking. Much, much too soon.

Seungheon had woken her an hour and a half prior, but as she stands there mulling over the options presented to her, Seungheon can’t help but sigh. “There is a reason there’s a dress laid out in front of you, Eunbyul. Please wear it.”

She scowls–at both him and the dress. “But why not go with my choice of attire?–I’ll feel a lot more comfortable that way.”

“Your choice of attire is entirely inappropriate for a job interview, which I know you’re well aware of already. Also, the only reason you’ll feel more comfortable in it is because you chose it out of spite.”

She grins up at him devilishly. “That’s true,” she says, sounding a little too happy at this fact.

His eyes narrow.

“I’m going to dress like a homeless man, specifically so they won’t hire me.” There’s a lilting chuckle emitting from her. “What are the odds, right? Going for a job interview in Seoul wearing rags? –- I’ll make headlines.” Her nose crinkles, as if really considering that prospect. “I really don’t want to make headlines, though. Don’t let me make headlines.”

“Then put the dress on, Eunbyul.”

She crinkles her nose at him. “But it’s so… safe. And not something I’d wear to work in the instance I did get hired, so why entertain a lie?”

Seungheon looks like he wants to hit his head against the wall in frustration. “Because first impressions matter to employers, Eunbyul. You need to be taken seriously.”

“But…” She trails off, eyeing her chosen attire once more, a distinct longing lingering in her eyes as she does. “A tortured artist aesthetic, who isn’t into that?”

“Me, for starters.”

“Well you’ve always been a killjoy, so what’s new there?” She puffs out her cheeks indignantly. “Plus what kind of artist wears a dress?!”

“The kind looking to get hired to use their artistic talents professionally.”

“Also you’re acting like it’s some insane outfit idea, which it isn’t! There’s nothing wrong with ripped jeans, why are you acting like there is?” She peers at him curiously. “Is that what it is, have you got a problem with me looking hot, huh? Scared the interviewer will be seduced by me, and hire me for the position without even needing to carry forth the interview?"

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, deciding to move the topic elsewhere. "Curls look especially elegant.” He glances around the room. “You have a curling iron around here somewhere, don’t you?” It doesn’t take him long to find the object of interest, and lay it before his wife.

She chuckles.

“And obviously you’re going to have to wear flats considering how bad your balance is in heels.” As he says this, he edges over to the closet, taking out a pair of flat shoes.

By the time he’s returned with them in hand, he turns back to Eunbyul, expecting her to have the curling iron plugged in, he however, sighs in exasperation at the sight he’s met with. “Eunbyul, why are you plugging in the straightening iron?”

She grins up at him. “If it isn’t obvious already, I’m purposely going against every tip and pointer you give me.”

He sighs. “Do you seriously want to be fired before you’re hired?”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Yes.”

“Aish.”

 

 

“And guess who else we encountered, dressed exactly like Seungheon recommended the minute we arrived?”

Sanghyuk chuckles softly, glancing up at his mother, a knowing expression on his features. "Do I even need to say?“

She grins back at him. "Her eyes practically popped out of her skull, it was quite humorous.” A disturbed expression passes on his mother’s face. “But I think we’ll bypass the time your uncle checked me out, in front of his brother, who is my husband. Yeah, we’ll bypass that.”

Sanghyuk crinkles his nose. “Please do.”

 

 

“Seungheon!” Her voice still sounding like nails being dragged down a chalkboard to Eunbyul, it’s none other than her arch-nemesis, Eunmi. There’s a pause in which Eunmi uses to regard Eunbyul’s presence. “And… Eunbyul.”

“Hi,” Eunbyul grits out.

“How cute,” the shorter woman lets out, tone sounding –- at least in Eunbyul’s opinion –- slightly condescending. “Escorting your husband to work. Aw.”

Eunbyul sniggers to the side. “Sure,” she says.

“Wait…” It doesn’t take Eunmi long to catch on. “It’s not that, is it? You’re here for an interview.” There’s a slight pause after this, as Eunmi mulls it over. She’s so surprised she barely even has time to take into account the outfit Eunbyul’s wearing.

 

 

“And that’s when she started panicking. I was always the better artist, that’s the one thing she couldn’t better me in. She loathed this fact. Legitimately loathed it.”

Sanghyuk nods.

“Evidently, Eunmi was on her best behaviour.” There’s a chuckle. “And I… I purposely did everything to penalize my chances. Seungheon wasn’t in the interview room, so he didn’t get to see any of it, but he told me prior that he expected me to not mess it up. ‘Any more than I already had’.” There’s another chuckle. “Which he didn’t say outwardly, but I knew he was thinking it.”

“So… what happened next?”

Her nose crinkles. “I specifically did everything I could to penalize my chance, yet by some miraculous odds, still got hired. I was told that my individuality stood out to them, that they liked my boldness, as they put it, and my art apparently couldn’t be argued with. They weren’t looking for a business executive, someone entirely professional. They wanted an artist. And with art, the individual approach… well I guess it works best.”

“How did appa react?”

“He was both surprised and entirely expecting it, if that makes sense?–He believed talent-wise I was the clear winner, that there was no one better for the job. But with how I made the interview go, he was quite sure that would penalize my chances.” There’s another pause. “Eunmi was also hired, as it wasn’t a one person job. Much to my dismay.”

She seems to let out a light sigh. "But unlike Seungheon thought, my heart wasn’t in it. At least not entirely. It was a nice escape from reality to go there and make art every day -– or every other day. But I’d still walk past the local school play ground, cursing myself for not having enough courage to go in and inquire. Every time I’d find a way to talk myself out of it. Silly thoughts like, what if they only hired mothers? –- What if they could tell just by looking at me that I wasn’t a mother? And the thoughts would multiply, by the day.“ She takes a breath. "Fact of the matter was, I honestly didn’t care if the subject I was teaching was art or not –- as much as it’s my forte, it’s not like I’m incapable of doing other stuff too.”

She reaches over to gently clasp his hand in hers. “I just wanted to help children. I wanted to inspire them. Be someone they could look up to, learn from. I just… I never had the courage to take that final step to finalize that position.” But she smiles, and Sanghyuk catches onto it.

“Until one day,” Sanghyuk says, knowing her current profession is the one she’s always dreamed of. “You did.”

Her smile is gentle, sincere. “You’re right. I did.”

“I’m proud of you, umma.”

She edges closer, knowing words won’t be able to encompass the extent of the love and admiration she feels in return for her son, so gently envelopes him into her arms.

 

They stay like this for a while, before their talk continues. His mother tells him of their first winter together; their Christmases -- lots of presents, heavy snow. The ones following, similar, baubles on trees, neatly wrapped presents, family dinners. She tells him of the summer days, the spring. Fall. Holidays, birthdays. And though Sanghyuk is unable to recall the first few, he knows that he’s blessed to have such caring parents, such dedicated parents. He knows he wouldn’t exchange them for the world.

It's just more difficult watching on the second time, knowing the memories are leaving him. Knowing he can't return to them once they've played through. Particularly, not knowing how he died, and to some degree, morbidly hoping it's a memory in his possession. He'd supposedly entered Heaven alive -- an apparently rare phenomena, did he get to see that?

He hopes so. 

 

Finally, night seems to dawn upon them. Sanghyuk’s mother frowns, realizing visiting hours are almost over. She feels there’s nothing worse than these extended hospital stays of Sanghyuk’s, when his condition is especially bad, missing the days where he were able to stay in their home as much more than a visitor, much rather an occupant.

But she knows tomorrow holds a better promise. A brighter one. If all goes to plan, he’ll be able to come home soon. She knows convincing him of such will be a difficult process, and she knows he’ll always long for what he can’t have, but she’d much rather have a son who is wheelchair bound, than have a son who needs to go through with a risky operation that doesn’t guarantee mobility one hundred percent. She just wishes her son would be on the same page.

But he’s not.

He’ll always long for the ability to walk. To navigate around by himself. To experience the 'freedom’ his peers do. Even if that means accepting this risky operation.

She hates saying goodbye. “Appa will visit you tomorrow, okay?” But smiles as his eyes light up at this prospect. “And tomorrow will come.”

It’s kind of become her mantra. And for the first time in a long time, Sanghyuk believes it too.

Which is why he does something that night he’s never contemplated before.

Well, definitely has contemplated, but never acted upon.

It’s a difficult process, something he’s not accustomed to doing. Exerting enough energy to get out of his bed is difficult on the best of days, given his condition, so having to manoeuvre out of the bed and get himself into his wheelchair which is half a room away is a daunting task. His mother left a while ago, and it seems the nurses on his ward have gone on a short break, which he knows won’t be lasting forever.

But along with this, he gets along very well with the nurses he encounters on a daily basis, and said nurses trust him, so he knows they won’t be suspicious of him, and will assume he’s asleep by this hour. So likely won’t intend on disturbing him.

Plus, he reasons, it’s not like he’s trying to escape the hospital forever.

He just wants an adventure.

For once in his life.

He wants to experience what it’s like to be outside by himself, free to go wherever he wants, for just a few hours. No one worrying about him, no one reminding him he lacks the ability to walk, that this condition he has has defined him for the entirety of his short life and will continue to do so, unless he does something to combat that.

Which is why he’s so sure of the operation. Or why he’s placing so much of his faith and belief into the operation.

He just needs to find a way to convince his mother that it’s the best option.  
Perhaps his appa too.

He doesn’t understand why they’re so weary about it. Well, he kind of does, but it’s like they’re not seeing the good that can come out of it, too. Yes, it’s risky.

Yes, there could be complications that could be life threatening, but with how well practiced the nurses and doctors are, Sanghyuk’s sure he’d pull through.

Day in, day out, he witnesses them saving lives. So why can’t his parents form enough trust in them to know they’ll make it so he pulls through? –- Why are they so worried?

It’s true he’s come to peace with the prospect of dying, to the point where he can makes jokes about it, but that’s because he’s been cooped up in the ins and outs of a hospital room for so long that anything–literally anything–will seem like an adventure in comparison.

Plus, everyone is going to die at some point. He’d be naive to pretend he doesn’t know that.

Even more for him, as his immune system is significantly weakened in comparison to his peers because of his condition.

But he knows, to the very core of his being that being cooped up in a hospital room for the majority of his existence is a stifling experience and he has every right to experience life too.

It’s a grueling process, it’s difficult. But he’s determined. Determined to show no evident signs of pain or of struggle. Of weakness. Not for anyone else’s sake other than his own in this instance, because right now, all he has is himself.

Once strapped securely into his wheelchair, he navigates it towards the door of his hospital room. Being in his chair makes the process of movement a lot easier for him, and it’s a ton less draining. Though it’s true it takes a lot of his upper body strength to navigate it, his legs are practically unused. And it’s his legs that are affected primarily by his condition, though it's taking more and more control over his spine at an ever increasing rate.

Usually the presence of his wheelchair bothers him, but right now he’s entirely thankful for its existence. Getting out of the hospital room and along the ward floor towards the elevators is something he seems to do in haste, the adrenaline of the adventure awaiting him coursing through his bloodstream, the anxiety and fear of being caught adding to this also.

Thankfully, he goes undetected.

And before he knows it, he out on the streets of Korea’s capital city, Seoul.

He’s been outside and around the country before, but he’s never been unsupervised. He’s never been alone. He’s never had the freedom to freely roam around and experience the wonders of the country he inhabits by himself.

All his life he’s been bound to the confines of his wheelchair, of his hospital bed, in his much younger years, the confinement of his parents’ arms, his nursery bed.

He’s never walked.

His condition tells him he can’t, that unless he goes through with this operation that’s yet to be decided on –- in the distant future –- he never will.

His parents are against the operation, and even when they try and put on their bright smiles for his sake, he can still the hesitancy behind it. The worry.

He wants to walk, by god does he want to walk, but he doesn’t want to make them worry. All of his life, they’ve given him everything.

They’ve treated him like a miracle child personally carved by the hands of god, and for that he can never repay them.

So he thinks –- hopes -– that perhaps there’s a way for them to reach a midway settlement. He’s contemplated it on numerous occasions. He’s dreamed of it.

But he’s never actually taken the plunge to get out and there and do it.

Until today.

The odds don’t lean in his favor, he knows that… but if he never tries, he’ll never know. And that’s the one thing that hasn’t happened in the entirety of his life. He’s never tried to walk.

Be it because of doctors orders.

Be it because of parental worry.

Be it because of his condition.

Be it because of his own fear.

Or the anger at his condition.

He wants today to be the day where that changes.

Unfavorable odds don’t mean impossibility, now do they?

Sanghyuk’s promised himself he’s going to test that theory.

That he’ll do it today.

 

 

Once there, he asks himself why it took as long as it did for him to take the plunge. Why he put it off so long, after dreaming about it taking place for such a long time, wishing with everything in him for it to take place.

Evidently it’s different to how he imagined, as in his greatest dreams, he’s able to walk around freely, exploring the earth, taking in his surroundings, basking in the atmosphere. Being wheel chair bound has always been something he’s despised, something he’d give anything to change. But he feels like he’s taken a step in the right direction by pushing himself out into the open air without anyone escorting him there. Without anyone holding his hand and gently guiding him through his life.

Ever since his condition was recognized, he’s had people helping him in even the most minuscule of tasks. Never has he ever gone without assistance. Never has he been able to tackle the world in itself, by himself.

Never has he done something alone.

Never has he accomplished something by his own means.

And he’s always wanted to, had dreams at night about the aforementioned, but not once did he take the plunge and make it a reality.  
Until now.

So that’s why he doesn’t doubt the smile that’s lighting up his features, that’s why he doesn’t resist the urge to push the wheels of his wheelchair forward and do a little victory twirl in it. That’s why he gives himself some time to truly take in his surroundings, to look at them, breathe them in, admire them.

He edges over to a nearby oak tree, trailing his finger down the bark, gently tapping on it, to measure how thick or hollow the bark is. He recalls reading a magazine about trees a couple of days ago, but never gave it much thought. He wishes he had now. Wishes that he kept the magazine and stored it with him.

But he doesn’t believe this is the time for regrets, rather the time to celebrate. To explore. To see the world through his own eyes, his own perception, without anyone else guiding him, influencing him.

As thankful as he is for the people in his life, there’re some things he’d like to be able to accomplish on his own terms. Sometimes, wishes that he wasn’t such a burden to his parents–even if they insist he’s not–he knows they have lives and responsibilities of their own which they need to fulfill. Knows that sometimes they don’t have the time to be focusing on him, and he completely understands. He just wishes they were a little more selfish than they are, that they didn’t sacrifice all their spare time for him, spend all their extra earnings on him. Skip out on much needed hours of rest to come visit him, to bring him home cooked meals.

All his life all they’ve ever done is focus on him, on raising him. On loving him. And he understands where they’re coming from, he just wants them to focus on themselves from time to time too.

Because they deserve it. They’ve always deserved it.

So that’s why he feels this journey of his own, on his own, is entirely necessary.

He wants to prove to his parents that he can make it, that he can get to places by himself sometimes too. That he doesn’t need to be escorted everywhere.

Maybe he won’t need to say it tomorrow morning, when he’s visited. Maybe they’ll pick up on the difference in him without words. Maybe it’ll come down to noting that there’s mud in the wheel of his wheelchair, or on his clothes.

Maybe they’ll get mad, demand answers as to why he didn’t follow both theirs and hospital instructions, why he’d take such a massive risk. Maybe they’ll worry, fuss over him, escort him back home instantly, reprimand him, make sure he’s home bound for the next six months or so, coddle him to the extreme.

But he’s sure he’ll be able to convince them that it was the right thing to do. That he made it back in one piece and has now proven that he’s able to get some places by himself and back. That they shouldn’t feel selfish for having some them time, every now and again.

With this, his smile widens. He reaches down and plucks up a blade of grass to his left, letting his fingers slide over the texture. He brings it up to his cheek and gently runs it along the skin there, chuckling a little. It tickles.

The atmosphere is so serene, and his heart feels so warm that he finds it hard to believe it’s currently winter. There’s snow lining the ground and he’s not exactly dressed in the warmest of layers, but the chill isn’t getting to him at all. He thinks the scene is entirely picturesque.

Beautiful.

Thus far he’s only seen glimpses of winter days, from windows–hospital, house, car. And been outside with others standing beside him, holding his hand, pushing his wheelchair, lifting him here and there.

Never alone.

He gives himself a little more time to bask in his surroundings, to drink each and every picturesque view around him in.

To truly breathe the air of the world he inhabits. But he knows that this is only the beginning, that as much as he likes admiring the world around him, he wants to explore it too.

And going on an adventure was his main intention upon arriving here alone, so decides it’s time.

Pushing the wheels of his wheelchair forward with enthusiasm, he decides he’s going to cross the road first.

There’re no cars around, from what he’s picked up from discussion, there seems to be very few at this time in the morning, only the occasional lorry. Or van.

Cars in their masses are a lot less frequent at this time, so unless he encounters a lorry, he needn’t worry about his wheelchair being too slow, mobility wise. He won’t have to worry about a collision and an–even earlier– early death.

Thankfully, he gets to the other side in one piece. Noting upon arrival that the the air feels a lot fresher here than where he stood prior.

The trees along the roadside are bare, it’s winter. There’re some fallen leaves that are left, dotting the grounds, murky and crispy looking. If he could feel sensation in his legs, he’s sure he’d attempt to crunch some with his feet.

However knows in his current condition that it’s entirely useless to even try.

So rather than dwell on it sadly, he decides he’s going to explore further. In his wheelchair. He wants to see what lies beyond the line of trees lining his direct vision.

The soil has hardened due to the winter conditions, so he knows the journey down passed the trees won’t be that messy, but is also aware it may be slippery. It’s in this moment he second guesses himself, wondering if he’s even able to make this journey himself. If after all of this, he’ll still only be able to go a specific distance without assistance. It’s a harrowing thought, but he knows it’s also logical.

Perhaps undeniable.

He knows, that by any stretch of the imagination, he’s not to get out of his wheelchair and that his legs are physically incapable of supporting him, in the instance that he does.

But he doesn’t want to give up. Not before he’s even had his journey.

Maybe the journey from the hospital grounds and onto the world outside is something those around him would consider a great leap for him given his condition, but he can’t help but compare it to how they’d treat it for themselves. For them it’d be a walk in the park. Something they experience every day. A distance that is the easiest thing in the world. For them, a mile run is harrowing. An achievement.

For Sanghyuk, that’s a flat out impossibility.

He’ll never run a mile.

He’ll never run.

Never walk.

And whilst the distance he’s covered so far is an achievement for him, he won’t deny that, it’s not a journey.

All he wants is a journey.

He wants to see what lies beyond the trees in front of him. The only thing that’s setting him back, is the worry of slipping out from his wheelchair and onto the frozen winter-bound grounds before him. He knows his wheelchair isn’t designed to sustain travel via icy conditions, and that if he does fall, he’ll have no way of getting back up, via his own means. He’ll need assistance, transportation.

But he also knows that if he doesn’t try, he’ll never know what it’s like. To journey alone. To be independent. To not have to rely on another to get where he wants to be.

And also knows that if he’s careful, he’ll be able to do it. From what he can already see, the grounds don’t look too covered with ice, and are only lightly patterned with snow, so it’s definitely possible.

He’ll just have to be extra careful.

Which he intends to be.

So with this thought in mind, pushes the wheels of his wheelchair forward, making sure to precisely control the speed that they’re moving at. Within a few minutes, he’s embarked upon the opening of the trees, and is leading himself slowly down the pedestrian pathway, that leads to whatever is beyond the trees. He knows this place must be a tourist attraction, at least in present years, for it to have a tourist attraction.

He assumes there’ll be a river. But he’s not sure what else could lie beyond these trees in front of him. Or now, beside him. At either corner of him.

The pathway is narrow, but wide enough to fit the entirety of his wheelchair through. He knows no car would be able to get itself through. Only people, and wheelchairs, it seems.

It’s a little bendy, the pathway. There’re twists and turns the deeper he goes. The ground is definitely hardened, from the icy conditions, but thus far, his wheelchair hasn’t slipped. His confidence is building. But not enough for him to get reckless about navigating his wheelchair. He knows he needs to stay focused. To not allow himself to get distracted. Which is a little difficult. So he keeps having to remind himself that when he’s there, he can have as long as he wants to look around. To investigate. To experience the outside world. But right now, he has to focus on getting there in one piece. Attached to his wheelchair.

He only has a little bit of distance to cover from here, so knows it won’t be too difficult. One thought does strike him as he’s descending, and it’s of how progressively colder the atmosphere seems to be getting. He’s got a jacket around him, so isn’t too worried about his torso, rather his hands. He hasn’t brought any glove wear, and knows from prior experience–when being escorted around in winter conditions–that his hands get cold quite easily. Somehow, he manages a smile at the thought of witnessing snow alone, for the very first time.

He’s at the bottom of the path now, and just like he expected, is greeted by a clear view of a lone river. The water of the river is frozen over entirely, so he’s not able to see any of the liquefied ripples he would on a summer’s eve. Which he’s a little thankful of, knowing that every time he has seen said ripples, be it on TV or elsewhere, he’s always had a desire to place his hand inside of the water.

For the longest time he’s envied those able to swim. He’s always wondered what it’s like to get inside a pool and swim to one’s hearts content.

Knowing that the water is frozen over lessens the desire to touch what lies beneath, but the more he stays there, glancing at it, the more he’s met with a desire to simply touch the ice. To experience what the sensation he’ll be met with on the tips of his fingers.

In the back of his mind he hears a subconscious, ‘don’t do anything reckless’, but easily refutes it because simply touching the ice isn’t all that reckless, is it?

And it turns out it isn’t. Nothing detrimental happens, the ice doesn’t break, his hand doesn’t fall in, nothing from the deepest depths of hell reaches up and pulls him in, nor does it drown him.

But Sanghyuk’s always has this over active sense of curiosity bubbling within him, so as much as he may want it to stop there, knows full well that it won’t.

It starts off little, a push forward of one wheel of his wheelchair, then again, and again, slowly and steadily, before the entire front half of his wheelchair is on the ice.

He’s care about it, measuring it up in his head, the areas he thinks will sustain the weight of the wheelchair, and when he finally decides that his specific corner will sustain the entire weight of the wheelchair without cracking, wheels the entirely of the wheelchair onto the ice.

He’s right. The thickness of the ice is enough to sustain. It’s thick enough for him to spin around in his wheelchair even, and with everything in him, he knows he’ll be pushing his luck if he tries to go any further.

So with everything in him, he decides he’ll turn around and go in the opposite direction. With everything in him, he intends to make his way back to the hospital and pat himself on the back for actually achieving what he intended. For experiencing a journey by himself, with no guidance from anyone else.

For the first time in his life, he’s feeling genuinely independent.

So with a smile on his face, begins to shuffle his wheelchair and navigate it into turning around, planning on leaving the way he came in. But in the exact second he does, notes that the wheelchair seems to have locked into place.

It’s a tense moment, but he knows it has a lock function, so shuffles around to the side of him, to check if it’s fallen into place accidentally.

When his fingers stumble upon it, he comes to the realization it hasn’t. That by every stretch of the imagination, he should be able to move his wheelchair from off the ice and up into the banking towards the path to the road above.

But for some reason, can’t seem to. Sanghyuk gulps, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Why won’t you move?”

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself to try and stay calm. Knowing that if he keeps trying, he’ll find his way off the ice eventually. He glances down at his hands, noticing the color they’ve turned. Noticing how they appear to be locked into place.

“Yah,” he says.

Closing his eyes, he exerts as much force as he’s physically capable of. Though it doesn’t whoosh him off the ice, it definitely gets the wheelchair moving.

But it ends up with him turning the wheelchair in the opposite direction than the one he’s intending to go.

He lets out a deep breath. But then blinks, focusing his gaze at the opposite end of the river than the way he’s intending to go.

In the far distance, there looks to be an outline of a person, but with no present physicality. It has no hands, nor feet. It does not stand, simply float. It’s blindingly bright in appearance. Unblinking. Gaze entirely on him. Sanghyuk’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?” he says, suddenly unable to look away. “What is that?”

It’s as if it’s beckoning him to come over. And the more he allows his gaze to focus in on it, the brighter its appears seems to be. The more blinding. It’s as if it’s becoming all he can keep his gaze on. Absorbing the surroundings beside them. Becoming the surroundings beside them.

‘Sanghyuk,’ it then appears to whisper. Sanghyuk’s eyes almost pop out of his skull, wondering how on earth it knows his name. ‘I have something for you. Something of yours. Come retrieve it.’

The effects of the words leave him cringing. Partly unintelligible, he’s sure of it, but somehow he’s able to understand what it is saying. The words aren’t easy on the ear in any stretch of the imagination.

‘Come here, Han Sanghyuk.’

He lightly shakes his head. “W-what are you?”

‘Han Sanghyuk,’ it repeats. ‘I have something of yours. Come retrieve it.’

He quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t know me. How could that be?”

‘You have to believe me, Han Sanghyuk. I have something of yours.’

“I… don’t think I do,” Sanghyuk says, feeling something unsettling rise within him. “I don’t think it’s possible that you can have something of mine without knowing anything about me. I have no idea what you are, but,” At both its appearance and the fact that he believes he’s coming to the realization that it is the reason why he can’t physically move his wheelchair off of the ice. “Can you please let me go?”

‘If you promise to come my way first, Han Sanghyuk.’

He gulps. “I don’t think I can do that,” he says.

‘Then we have no deal, do we?’

“But…”

‘Come my way and I shall free you, Han Sanghyuk.’

“I-I can’t.”

‘Yes,’ it says. ‘You are able.’

“I’m physically _unable,”_ he says. “Both because I’m wheelchair bound and because whatever you are, you’ve taken hold of my wheelchair also.’

It seems to just be taking note of this itself. It’s as though it nods. ‘My apologies,’ it says, and Sanghyuk lets out a deep breath of air as the hold on him is lessened.

And it seems he’s bought himself time. To at least make a run for an escape. Of any kind.

Before he can even question it, he applies as much force into pushing his wheels forward and getting off the ice.

The thing lets out a deafening screech and Sanghyuk almost comes to a standstill, but truly recognizes that he has no time to waste. But he can only go so fast in his wheelchair.

‘Why, Han Sanghyuk?’

He comes to a standstill at this involuntarily, noting that it can’t seem to leave the ice. He breathes a sigh of relief.

‘I can take you home, Han Sanghyuk. I promise you.’

Sanghyuk lets out an awkward chuckle. “And I’m going to assume we have very different ideas of what home means, here.”

‘Why, Han Sanghyuk? I can take you home. I promise you.’

He raises another eyebrow at this. Its speech seems very… limited. Like it’s only capable of uttering a few sentences at the same time. He shakes his head, as if to shake himself awake. Maybe he didn’t actually leave the hospitals’ quarters?

The thing edges closer, but truly is unable to leave the ice. Sanghyuk notices that he’s a little closer than perhaps he should be to the ice. That yes, maybe it can’t get off the ice, but his foot is definitely within reaching distance, so who is to say it can’t reach forward and pull him back?

Which in the next second, is exactly what it attempts. He feels a jolt of ice run up his shin, and cries out in pain. Never in his life has he felt sensation in his legs, never in his life has he deemed it possible.

‘Come, Han Sanghyuk. I can take you home.’

“No,” Sanghyuk spits out. “Let go of me.”

‘Not possible,’ it lets out. ‘You must come home. Let me show you what will happen if you do not come home, Han Sanghyuk.’

Sanghyuk opens his mouth to protest, but in that exact second, feels like he falls backwards. His eyes squeeze closed, but he feels like he’s not in control of himself any more.

 

“Seungheon?” He hears. It’s frantic, erratic-sounding. His mother comes into view in the next second, tears streaming down her cheeks.

His father is in the exact same predicament. He notes that both can barely get their words out. Their their palms are shaking. That they’re barely standing upright.

Rather than having the focus solely on how they’re reacting physically, it’s as if he feels what they’re feeling. He feels the sense of distraught and pain coursing through the room, he feels the inability to speak, the inability to make sense of anything.

He feels the sense of death.

 

‘What happened here, Han Sanghyuk?’

“I… died?” He guesses.

‘Correct. Come home, Han Sanghyuk. Take my hand. Home. I promise.’

“If you were to take me home, why would it feel this… off? Why does it feel like you want to harm me?”

It doesn’t reply to his question, rather repeats what it’s already said. ‘I will take you home, Han Sanghyuk. I promise. Take my hand.’ Letting go of his leg, the ice cold feeling disappears and his leg feels like it always had, weightless, painless. He feels no sensation. Two hands are offered to him. ‘Take one,’ it says.

“Can’t I just go?” He asks hopelessly. “I can find my own way home, please just let me go.”

‘You came uninvited,’ it says. ‘I must make sure–’

“I promise I won’t come again, ever, I swear. Just please, please let me go. It was a mistake, I get it. That’s what you want me to say? It’s a lesson I’m being taught, or something, I have no idea. But I’m not meant to be here, I get it. And I promise, just please–”

It doesn’t reply. And Sanghyuk is seconds away from letting go and just giving up, giving it what it wants… when in his peripheral vision notes there’s another hand. A hand that’s not glowing, evidently not attached to this being before it and has an outline of blue. It’s more transparent than the two before him, but he feels… just feels that it’s less dangerous. And if he has to choose one, he feels this newest one would be the best option.

Squeezing his eyes closed, grabs the third hand, and feels as if he’s been blown away from the being before him as it goes entirely out of focus. As does his wheelchair. As do the surroundings. There’s too much light for him to keep his eyes open, but that doesn’t mean he sees darkness.

He sees more light for a minute or two, before the light focuses in on a room, a hospital room. In the room he sees an array of familiar faces. He sees his mother crying, but knows instantly that they’re not tears of sadness but joy, his father’s eyes are coated in love and devotion.

He sees his grandmother, eyes teary, smile as genuine as always. His aunts and uncles.

He knows instantly it’s his birth.

It changes.

He sees a cradle. He sees a younger version of him. He sees his father on the phone, smiling fondly his way. He sees his mother pulling funny faces at him. He sees snow outside.

It’s his first winter.

It changes once more.

It’s still winter. He sees a ton of presents lined under a tree. He hears a lilting chuckle from beside him.

“Seungheon,” his mother exclaims. “There’s enough presents here for at least three years!”

“That was my intention,” his father says.

“So you’ve just decided to buy all the presents in advance for three years in a row?” She looks flabbergasted.

“I guess it could be taken that way,” Seungheon says. “But not when I plan on buying him a lot of things on top. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s been an ongoing thing.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“For every month he’s lived, I get him a new present.” He walks over to the cradle, reaches down and places his son into his arms. “Since the minute he took his first breath, I didn’t think I could love him any more than I already do, but every day, he proves me wrong. So why can’t I thank him for that? I know it’s a small token in comparison, but for a good few years he’ll be unable to understand the mental aspect, and will think material things are the best type of indicator of love.”

“Yah,” she exclaims, trying to not let it become too obvious her eyes are tearing up. “That’s cheating! It’s not a competition of who makes a better parent, Seungheon!”

He chuckles knowingly. “Never said it was, did I?”

“Whatever,” she mutters, playfully narrowing her eyes at him. “I’ll be an even better parent if this is the type of game you’re going to play!” She promises.

“Bring it on,” his father says.

But it doesn’t stop there. As he sees witnesses pretty much every milestone of his life played out before him in what seems to be a ten second limit. He’s swears he can recall what it is he’s experiencing, swears he’s heard about this exact thing happen to people who are…

Who are…?

Suddenly the meaning, the words slip his mind. He has no idea what’s taking place. Only that he’s elsewhere, that he’s out of the earth’s atmosphere. That he doesn’t recognize where he’s going…

It’s as if his feet have a mind of their own, or they’re simply doing all they can to ensure his survival, as this place he’s ended up, it barely looks stable. He glances around, unsure, looking for some form of, well, anything. He’s met with nothing but a vast area of nothingness. There’s nothing he can see, smell, touch, or hear.

He closes his eyes, wondering if his medication has actually been upped and he’s imagined this entire journey and now only just coming back to reality.  
But upon opening them, realizes that can’t be the case. As the place he’s in is still as vastly empty as ever, yet he’s now standing outside a doorway. It’s barely visible, pretty much see through, but he’s still able to make out that it’s a door of some kind. A door he presumes he’s supposed to pass through.

He tiptoes over, glancing over his shoulder every so often as if to check that there’s no one behind him –- he escaped the thing at the river some time ago, but he has no idea where it it he’s ended up, nor what the thing from before was, and isn’t going to let himself risk anything. Or get too comfortable. He knocks three times, seeing it as his only present option left.

He’s sure he can’t be going back the way he came, nor does he know how it’s possible that grabbing some barely visible hand would take him onto a pathway of… nothingness. His theory that his medication dosage has been upped seems most probable to him at the moment.

The next second, he almost jumps back at the sound of the door before him opening. There’s no one behind the movement, at least as far as he can see, but he already feels like what lies beyond must be a lot safer than where it is he currently happens to be. Taking a ginger step forward, he enters through the doorway.

“I have noted that many Light Alignment members knock prior to entering. Dark Alignments tend not to. Though it is not solid enough a theory to be a determiner, perhaps I have just mastered the skill of alignment energy sensing. Given my position, would not be that improbable.”

Sanghyuk almost jumps out of his skin, not expecting to be met with a voice of any kind. He sends a glance to the left of him and comes to a halt, entirely unsure of what to do. “Um…?”

The evidently tall man, though seated, before him glances up from the opened book before him. He peers at Sanghyuk. “Hello, Han Sanghyuk."

"Um… hello?”

He makes no move to edge closer to Sanghyuk, simply stays seated. But it’s evident he’s waiting for something.

Sanghyuk takes a glance around the room, utterly perplexed. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before. “W-what is this place?”

“Celestial border,” the voice says blandly, like it’s been rehearsed and thousand and one times over. “The path following leads up to Heaven’s quarters. The area you just passed through was a stairway away from the void, if you were to belong to a Dark Alignment, you would have spent more time getting to this area. You would have likely ventured into the void. From how quickly you ended up here, I assume you are to belong to a Light Alignment. I am Archangel Jung Taekwoon, and I will be your guide to Heaven. Please take a step forward.”

Sanghyuk furrows his eyebrows but does as asked. Wondering what on earth is going on, noting that his theory from before–upped medication–it must be true.

There’s a pause as the dark haired man before him casts a glance back at his book. "Wait a minute…" he trails off, but Sanghyuk can hardly translate what the expression he wears means. Nor even what it is. "Han Sanghyuk, born July 5, 1995?”

Sanghyuk nods, standing a little straighter. He still has no idea what’s going on, but suddenly feels like he needs to be professional about it. “That would be correct, yes.”

The man who referred to himself as 'Archangel Taekwoon’ wears the same unreadable expression from before, still making no move towards Sanghyuk.  
  
“Your assigned death date is not matching. You are not to die as of this day. I would be breaching my code of conduct if I were to tell you when destiny detonates that you are intended, but that day is definitely not today, definitely not this year.”

There’s a second pause. "Did you commit suicide?" The unreadable expression hasn’t lessened. "It is the only plausible outcome, given these circumstances. Yet…” he trails off. “It would have still shown on the records, would it not?–Prior cases have. What makes yours any different, Han Sanghyuk?”

He shrugs his shoulders, chuckling nervously. “I… um… I have no idea. All I can recall is that I went for a walk this morning,” Sanghyuk says weakly, offering what little knowledge of the day’s events he can place solidly. “Or… rather took my wheelchair out with me for a little journey of sorts. But uh… maybe they upped my meds a bit and I just imagined that I did?–I haven’t had a dream this vivid or… out there in… forever, really. Heh, heh.”

Archangel Taekwoon glances at him, raising a calculated eyebrow.

“Wheelchair?”

Sanghyuk nods. “Yeah, it’s right–” Sanghyuk’s eyes widen as he glances around his surroundings, noting it’s nowhere in sight. “W-wha…?” He glances down at his legs, only just noting that not only is his wheelchair nowhere to be found, the’s clearly standing on his own two legs, also. “I’m standing…? I’m–” He takes a step forward, mouth falling open in amazement. “Oh my god.” He shakes a hand in front of his face as if to snap himself out of this. “I’m… I just walked!”

“Hold out your hand,” Archangel Taekwoon instructs, standing onto his feet.

Sanghyuk does as he’s asked, almost in a daze. Both from the Archangel’s presence and the realization he’s walking by himself. This must be a dream, right?

“You froze to death,” he tightens his hold somewhat. “Or are in a current comatose state.” There’s a pause. “It is a little unclear at this moment. One for that is for certain,” the Archangel says. “Is that you are ill.”

Sanghyuk nods, still in a daze. “That’s true.”

“It is not as simple as cancer, is it?”

Sanghyuk blinks. “Um…”

“What you had. Or have. Perhaps.” He peers down at Sanghyuk. “It was not cancer?”

Sanghyuk nods. “It was–is?–a neurological disease, I was diagnosed very young. It’s kind of all I’ve really known. I’m also really susceptible to other illnesses because my immune system doesn’t work as they expected, as a healthy person’s would. Respiratory particularly.  
I’ve been faced with a decision of whether or not to go through with a new operation specifically for my condition, it’s new and not that widespread, and they can’t guarantee 100% survival rate, but if all goes to plan it could help me gain feeling into my legs which they can then begin the process of training me how to walk. My parents aren’t so sure.  
Umma has been focusing on trying to encourage me that living in a wheelchair for the rest of my life wouldn’t be so bad, but I can’t seem to… agree.” Once all this is out, Sanghyuk blinks. “Wow,” he mumbles. “I don’t think I meant to say that much…?”

Archangel Taekwoon doesn’t respond, merely glances at him.

“No, no,” he says. “I’m being serious! I felt like my mouth was moving without my knowledge for some time then? Like I had no control over it? That’s trippy.”

“Humans are entirely susceptible to Celestial manipulation,” Archangel Taekwoon says blandly. “Especially in our borders. To think you have entire control over yourself here as a human is to be utterly naive.” He then seems to blink in wonder. “No matter how many centuries pass, I do not understand humans, nor their apparent desire to want what they cannot have. Can you explain me, Han Sanghyuk?”

Sanghyuk doesn’t realize the Archangel is directing a question at him at first. “Oh,” he says. “Heh. I guess it’s because we’re stupid? We really do want what we can’t have, it seems. For as long as I’ve known I can’t, I’ve wanted to walk. It’s kind of a big deal for me.”

“Humans live the entirety of their short lives not knowing what lies ahead for them, nor after. They barely accumulate the knowledge to truly understand what goes on as they are living. Yet they are at peace in believing they are dedicating their lives into seeking a knowledge of which they cannot truly understand the depths, or complexities.  
Why do humans believe that knowing –- simply just knowing –- will fix your ailments and set everything in the universe right? The vastness of universe will expand your horizons, but it will not cure you. It will not fix you. It is a million times what you are. You say you wish to acquire the knowledge of the universe, the creatures other than yourselves that lie within, yet when you are faced with that you cower away.  
Why is it you seek us but cower in fear when you encounter us? Convince yourself we do not exist? Why must you contradict yourselves? We have inhabited your lands for longer than you have, we have existed for longer than you ever will. Humans act as if they are the universe, when they are merely a dot in the entirety of the cosmos. Existence would still thrive without any of you.”

Sanghyuk is at a loss for words, feeling this entire thing is too much to take in at once. That this really is the most trippy of dreams he’s ever encountered. “I… um.” He clears his throat. “Can I take this time to ask who it is you, well, are? Where it is I am?”

“If you had been listening prior you would have known by now.” Sanghyuk’s sure he’s not trying to sound condescending, it’s just simply coming off that way. Surely this man–or being, or whatever–has experienced situations just like theirs a thousand times over, and evidently knows what humans are like. Just like he said, when faced with something outside of the norm–no matter how interested they may have been prior–cower away. In that cowering away, miss the details. Probably. Archangel Taekwoon peers at him. “You believe this to simply be a dream, do you not? Even after all I have just stated.”

Sanghyuk nods wearily. “It’s difficult not to.”

“It is not a dream.” At the sound of a page turning, Sanghyuk’s attention springs back to Archangel Taekwoon, he didn’t even see him move back to his desk. Didn’t hear him, either. “I am an Archangel.”

“A-an Archangel…? Like–”

“God’s strongest soldiers, God’s gate keepers, etcetera, etcetera . You are not currently in Heaven, but that is our next destination.”

Sanghyuk freezes for a minute, entirely confused. Mouth opening and closing as if he were a fish out of water. “H-heaven? W-why would I be–? I don’t… understand?” He glances around the room, the vastly spaced room. The more he drinks in the details the more he decides it looks like a hallway in his old hospital, just entirely more ethereal appearing. It has to be a dream, right? His mind is just depicting images he’s already seen before and contorting them into something else entirely. He’s probably sleeping sounding in his hospital bed. He must be.

Mustn’t he?

Archangel Taekwoon raises a calculative eyebrow. “Did I not already state what has happened to you?”

“Um–”

“That was a rhetorical question,” he says blandly. “I have. You are dead, Han Sanghyuk. Or still in the process of dying. You have found your way to us because it is your predetermined destiny. You are Heaven bound, to be Aligned. All prior ailments will disappear. Be healed. Forgotten. Your past life will cease to exist to you, restored entirely to default. Your peers will not forget you, but you will not exist on co-existential levels. You are now in different realms and different planes of existence. You are to be Enlightened. Experience all of what lies beyond. You will move on to what your realm coins the Afterlife. There are procedures to follow in this transitioning, one does not lose their memories in a day. The length of a human to Angel transition in human years is that of a two year span. Each day with a full schedule."

Sanghyuk feels himself back away in confusion. "No,” he says. “I don’t… That’s not…”

Archangel Taekwoon barely bats an eyelid at this response. “There are four main Archangels in present day Heaven. You will learn through History Of Heaven lectures–as such–that present day Heaven is not the same as past Heaven was. There have been changes in transitioning procedures and in leadership. I cannot disclose the reasoning right now, but you will learn in due time.”

“Wait,” Sanghyuk cuts in, panic in his voice. “Can we–I don’t…”

“I will answer any questions you have once I have finished explaining. Many humans believe Heaven is an individual paradise in which one reaches enlightenment and from there on can do exactly as they please. That is not the case. We have a strict system of order here. There is a hierarchy each inhabitant is required to stick to.  
To ensure optimal safety of you and your mechanism in transitional sense, you are required to part with past life memories. An Angel who can remember their past life and the wrongs they or those close to them faced, teamed with the changes of planes of existence has a great risk of going rogue, resulting in unpredictable behavior which can impact on their duty and purpose as an Angel and on Heaven as a whole. It is a dangerous route we do not condone.  
You are not allowed to leave Heaven’s premises without assistance, duty or Higher up permission. This holds true even for Archangels. Everything we do we do due to our assigned duty and purpose.  
Present day Heaven inhabitants are unlikely to encounter our God in person. Many yet-to-transition humans get their hopes up of this, but–in human terms–you may consider him on a break, or retired. We do not need to disclose the reasons why, but we must present this fact. Rest assured in his existence however. Worry of Satan’s existence also, if you are that way inclined.  
With good there comes bad. Hell exists, demons exist. For every Archangel or higher position of authority in Heaven, there is a counterpart in Hell.  
You will be aligned to one of the four main Archangels. They will be your main Mentor, though you will receive guidance and training from all of us, you learn best from your assigned Mentor. You share a bond with your main Mentor to a further extent than you will with other Archangels. There are two categories alignments fall under: Light and Dark. These are just the basics, I am unable to cover the entirety of them in this interaction. You will find out in due time in depth, as you transition. Do you have any questions?”

Sanghyuk feels like he wants to curl up into a ball, guard himself from anything else he’s going to be told. To roll over, fall out of his hospital bed and wake up.

Convince himself he didn’t actually take that stupid journey out with his wheelchair and end up god-only-knows-where, with god-only-knows-who, who-clearly-isn’t-human-claiming-to-be-an-Archangel-and-escorting-them-to-Heaven. He wants to wake up wrapped in his mother’s arms, wants to see his father’s smiling face, wants to see his friends, his nurses. Wants to glance around the safety of his hospital bed and watch the snow fall from behind the window.

All of this because he wanted to walk. He now questions if any of it was worth it. The supposed Archangel before him told his all his ailments would disappear but… at the exchange of his life on Earth, the memory of his family and friends… was it worth it?

Did he have a choice in any of this?

Could he go back?

Would he be able to forget the memories of being here?

Would he have to go back knowing there’s so much–more than he could’ve ever imagined–actually going on?

That there’s so much out there he doesn’t know?

Would things ever go back to normal?

Would he be okay with normal from here on out, if he did remember?

Archangel Taekwoon asked him if he had any questions and Sanghyuk swears he’s got a million more than he ever had before.

"So, say in the instance that all of this is true and it’s really happening right now and I’m really… dying.” He pauses for a minute, goes entirely silent, an array of expression painting his features. “I always thought I was ready for death, you know? Believed it wouldn’t matter if it happened today or tomorrow. I’d been preparing my whole life for it, I’d thought. Come to terms that I was guaranteed to die younger than my peers’ would. But now that it’s here… or coming to be here, I–” He takes a deep breath, gulping. “Is there nothing I can do to change it?”

“Destiny is predetermined. You have no control over your death date. Though I admit what is written under your name in the book is different to what seems to have panned out here, unless you have commit suicide, you have had no control over how it is you die. It would have been noted if you had commit suicide, and it has not, so that leaves the conclusion that you have not. If you have taken a recent risk in which your Destiny did not intend, I am not surprised that you have ended up here. Did you do so?”

Sanghyuk nods guiltily.

“Especially for one in your position, such a risk is entirely foolish. We have had prior cases of similar instances, those dying before their time. Humans are unpredictable, from my many years of experience and research, I have learned that sometimes–rarely, but it is possible–the cause of death written in the books can be wrong.  
Especially if risks are involved on the end of participant. Death before their time is messy process and makes my job a lot harder-as do impromptu murder and suicide cases–and is something we have very, very rarely experienced, but for you to have found your way to us, means your fate must have decided it is time. I cannot argue with that. You are here and it is time for you to transition. Though considering method of death, I have a lot more to clear up than I normally would. Many more documents to sign. Many more conversations to have. Much more convincing I have to do.” There’s a dry smile painting his lips. “Thank you for that.”

Sanghyuk almost laughs, but it’s a terrified laugh. In the presence of someone as equally terrifying, and he, well, thinks twice.

“Because of this your transition will start a little later than usual. Meaning you will have a good few days of 'freedom’ in Heaven. I will keep you in my Alignment street for the time being, though I am certain you are not of a Dark Alignment. It is so I can get everything in check. You are allowed to interact with the inhabitants, but please do not disturb them when they are working. Angels and Archangels alike are busy beings.”

Sanghyuk nods demurely. “So if there’s nothing I can do, how about…” He chews on his lip, glancing down at his feet before glancing back up at Archangel Taekwoon. “Being like… I don’t know… a 'Guardian Angel’ over my family or something? Even if they can’t see me? Can I do that?”

“Had you do that throughout transitioning, it is likely you would go rogue even against your own will. You would have to live through the grief, the despair, the suffering. I will tell you of a time we observed a human’s grief, an experiment of ours, carried out by one under my Alignment. We had a newly transitioning Angel who watched over her best friend in all the months they were apart. Please do not think it was forced upon her, we had discussed it prior and gotten her agreement–in fact, some would say she insisted upon it.  
The thing is with our realm, since accepting human-to-Angel transitioning we must also study the human realm. Human behavior. We must know how humans react to certain situations. We must know what we can and cannot do. We had to see what grief of a human was like.  
My alignment member presented a case much like you just did, in watching over her best friend. As a Guardian Angel of sorts. She swore it would be for the better, that she would come back stable, okay. With written results in what she had observed in hand. But it did not go that way. She and her best friend have–perhaps had–a bond that I truly deem unbreakable. And what she saw… it greatly hurt her.  
To the point where she could not sit back and simply record the results. To the point where she felt she had to reach out. To comfort him. She tried so many times to reach out to her best friend, even begged me to let her go back. To trade her position in Heaven, to find a way to restore her ability to live as a human again. Anything.  
But what is done is done, and once transitioned, one can not return. And whilst we got our results, found out what we needed, it was a dark time. A painful time. Especially for my Alignment member.”

Sanghyuk’s eyes are clouded in pity as he nods. “That’s… aish. It sounds horrible. Am I allowed to ask what happened next? Did the Angel know what happened to her best friend? Do you… know where he is now? Did he die? A, um… a natural human’s death, or?”

“You are quite inquisitive, it seems.”

Sanghyuk chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry, it’s just… really new and interesting to me and–”

“There is no need to explain yourself. I understand. The answer is that this Angel was upon the first batch of human-turned-Angels to have their memories wiped clean in transitioning process.  
A lot of changes were implemented upon her first year of transitioning and she was actually one of the first to try a lot a majority of these new changes, so if things did not go to plan, could have easily been put in a very dangerous position. Thankfully, she was not. Everything went as it should. For her best friend…”  
  
Sanghyuk edges closer, intrigue visible.  
  
“She knows not what happened to him, as her memories have been wiped. But he, he knows exactly of what happened to her. And he is not happy about it. Though the alternative very well may have killed her. It is bitter-sweet what took place, but it is what kept her functioning.”

Sanghyuk nods, but there’s a glimpse of confusion running through him. “Wait,” he says. “You say he knows in present tense. Does that mean…?”

“They are a special two with a very unusual story. Both destined for supernatural happenings."

Sanghyuk’s mouth makes an 'o’ shape. "Are they like… celebrities of Heaven?”

“It could be considered that way, I suppose. Though rather, a celebrity of Heaven and celebrity of Hell.”

Sanghyuk’s eyes widen. “He’s… he’s… you mean he’s…”

“He is a demon, yes.”

“And he remembers her? Does Hell not have a memory wiping process too?”

Archangel Taekwoon seems to tense up somewhat. It goes unnoticed to Sanghyuk. “Hell does have a memory wiping process, but this boy… it was ineffective for him.”

“Wow,” Sanghyuk says. “So he remembers all of it? His entire life and his afterlife all at once?”

Archangel Taekwoon nods. “The entirety.” He then directs the conversation elsewhere. “Any more questions?”

Sanghyuk shakes his head happily. “The more I think about it the cooler I find everything. I think I’m ready to go into Heaven. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget my family that easily, nor not be sad about leaving them but if this is my destiny and there’s nothing I can do to change it, it’s kind of redundant trying, isn’t it?”

Archangel Taekwoon peers at him for several minutes, as if he’s looking into the the very depths of his soul. “Very well,” he says. “Follow on behind me.”

 

"All of that I recall," he whispers, purposely keeping out of view from his past self and Archangel Taekwoon. Archangel Taekwoon was evidently a master of Heaven endeavors, and situations such as his were like a second nature, so clearly would be attune to him lingering in the shadows. Something told him he wasn't to interact, or even be seen by his past self or anyone his past self interacted with as the event occurred, as it was a lot more than just remembering. He knew he was actually present at the scene. But one thing had been perturbing him in particular. "And yet I still don't recall how I died."

Deciding he'd do something his past self hadn't, he stayed in vicinity -- though outside of the room, even whilst his past self left. Listening. 

 

Many hours later, when Sanghyuk was safely kept inside Archangel Taekwoon’s Alignment premises, he had called upon a meeting with fellow Archangel Hongbin, to discuss the matters.

“I am sure you are already aware,” says Archangel Hongbin. “That I find this to be a ridiculously foolish move, Archangel Taekwoon.”

“I understand your worry,” Archangel Taekwoon says. “But he has found his way to us. Cases like his exist. Though we may have not experienced many, they are there.”

“We have not experienced _any,”_ Archangel Hongbin corrects. “To lump what has happened to him, to what he described you, with cases like suicide and murder is incorrect. What happened to him falls neither under murder, nor suicide. Nor does it deem a natural cause. From what you have said, it seems you are even unsure of whether he has actually passed on the human world, or not?”

“That is correct,” Archangel Taekwoon says. “But–”

“There are no buts, Archangel Taekwoon. Even as the Archangel of Death–the closest to mastering Death any being will ever be–I believe this to be an entirely arrogant move. You reiterate consistently on how Destiny is the most important thing, yet here you are actually considering taking this child on board, especially when his premeditated cause of death and actual cause of death do not align? Especially when he is such an anomaly that his death does not fall under murder, suicide or natural causes? How?”

“Archangel Hongbin…”

“Forgive me for saying this, but it would seem you are merely intrigued by his situation. In learning about his situation. That you would like to use it as your next experimentation, next area to master. To play with Death a little more than what you are already capable of. To up the power you hold over Death, get that much better at your Destined trade, which is admirable, but incorrect in this sense.  
The details of this boy’s 'death’–which still has not be confirmed, may I add–are unclear. And from what we have observed already–past and present–children cannot truly consent to death, Archangel Taekwoon. Our recent studies on humans – both now and in the past – have showcased their minds are petulant. That they will jump at any opportunity that strikes them of out of the norm. I believe that if I took one look at this boy I would be able to determine that he is not ready for this.”

“But if he has already passed on…”

“Which we have not confirmed,” Archangel Hongbin adds in. “It is not a matter of if or when, I realize that. He will die, that is a fact, of course. Humanity will cease, as is that. But it is apparent that his time is not now, so return him to his body. If he has not yet died, it is possible. Perhaps you may have to go down with him and wipe his memories of this encounter after. It need not matter how it takes place. We will consider it a blip. Save his mother the stress, save us the stress. It is as simple as we make it.”

“And you do not see that as playing with death, Archangel Hongbin?”

“I see that as correcting a wrong. Simply putting a wrong right."

"Destiny and free will are two entirely different concepts,” Archangel Taekwoon says. “They do not always match up. It is out of the norm, but not impossible what has happened here. Hence how he found his way here.”

“And his records tell you another thing, do they not? Records do not lie, Archangel Taekwoon. He should not be here. It is before his time. Transitions before their Destined time do not work.”

“Well if I recall correctly…” Taekwoon trails off.

But Hongbin quickly cuts in with a, “you need to stop treating your patients as experiments, Archangel Taekwoon.” Hongbin keeps his gaze elsewhere. “We all know how that ends.” There’s another pause. “Please let go of this… intrigue you feel at the situation. If you must, think of another–much more logical–method of experimentation. Turn back these past twenty-four hours for this boy and convince him to stay where he is. He will come to us in due time. When he truly dies, and then we shall take him under our wing.”  
  


But the exact second Sanghyuk tries to edge closer, he's thrown back. Not by anyone, more so because of the surroundings, as if he's barricaded in, unable to follow behind the tall, dark haired Archangel. As he presumed, the aforementioned truly knew what it was he was doing and evidently know all the loopholes and rules. There was no way he could effectively hide in the shadows from him, linger on behind as the Archangel turned back the past twenty four hours and returned him to his body. No way of truly seeing how he died, or returned to his body to then die, if that was even when he died. Perhaps it was in the future. He couldn't confirm. 

Perhaps that was how death worked. One could recall the events leading up, the events after, but during...

It was blank. White noise. 

Suddenly he's back on the operating table he started on.  
  
"Stage two," 'Archangel' Hongbin says, at least as Archangel Taekwoon referred to him. "Introductions have been set in place. They will stick. Memories you just visited will fade throughout the entirety of this day. They have been obliterated from your psyche, and you are absolutely unable to revisit them, but they do take time to fully dissipate. Though Angels are forbidden from sleeping as it brings great danger towards them, we recommend sleep for transitioning Angels, you will feel entirely overloaded by events present and events to come. I will now sit you down and talk you through what we have gathered, Han Sanghyuk."

Sanghyuk nods, doing as advised. 

"Your name is Han Sanghyuk. You were born on July 5, 1995, with prior alignments and illnesses that greatly impacted your life.  On November 9, 2009 you experienced an exceptionally rare phenomena of entering Heaven alive, something of which we has been witnessed but three times prior. All three in the same century, which is not this one. All three we connected due to voids and void happenings, something we are presently trying to determine if it relates with yours also. You will scribe any and every out of ordinary events you witnessed after this conversation is finished, regardless of personal attachment to the life sequence of events. One we determined your circumstance, you were returned to your body, allowed to live out the rest of your allocated time with your family. On April 9 2010, you went through with the operation in good spirits and seemingly better health -- condition had been worsening before due to a bout of pneumonia -- only to die during the operation, as was always Destined. Your loss was of great mourning, and to this present day still is. We have determined that you are of a Light Alignment, though subordinate is still to be determined.  We welcome you aboard and ensure you will receive utmost care and education from us, during and after your transition, we ask you repay this by becoming a solid and useful member of present day Heaven, and complete your allocated duties. Any further questions, Han Sanghyuk?"

Sanghyuk blinks, deliberating it. It was something he'd heard in passing but was infinitely curious over. "What is a Destined One?" Sanghyuk asks.

Archangel Hongbin appears to sigh. "A flawed concept," he says. "I would deem it our one area of failure, though no one will listen to me. Perhaps, in due time."

 

 


	5. Section One: Archangel Transition (Taekwoon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oO-LFVMvJc

**Section One:**  
**Heaven.**

 

 

As night falls, there are times where Taekwoon feels an urge -- almost like a magnetic pull -- to be out in the open. He doesn't always humor this urge and notes that it only shows up around nightfall, but on the days he does humor it, always ends up at the same place. Routinely finds himself taking a walk down to the nearest river.  
  
The river, although narrow -- measurable in one lap of the swimmer -- has insurmountable depth.  
  
Once at his destination, he will sit. In pure silence, the vast majority of the time. The only sound to infiltrate his hearing is the sound of running water, wind rustling leaves in nearby trees. This kind of uninterrupted silence, free from human intervention, enables him to think, wonder. Sometimes lament.  
  
Lamenting tends to not be fun. It will fill him with bitterness, a sharp sense of disgruntlement and disgust. Especially if he's to stumble upon his reflection in the ripples below. Night is safer in that sense as it hides his reflection from clear sight.  
  
On the rarer days where he goes a little earlier, like today, that sentiment doesn't stand.  
  
"Shame I look so much like you," Taekwoon says as he glances down at the reflection in the river. "Shame it is the same blood that courses through my veins." Like his father had always said -- even if in utter puzzlement -- he isn't much of a talker. Barely says five words per sentence, according to his father.  
  
He's found he'll especially freeze up in a verbal sense around his father. The peculiar thing he finds also, is that it isn't due to fear. He isn't afraid of voicing himself and standing his ground against his father, he simply has no want to interact with the man.  
  
He sees no reason as to why he should be indebted to, either. The man has done nothing that gains a fraction of respect from him. Or for the family.  
  
Sometimes he finds himself possessed by the urge of speaking out against the injustices he's witnessed from the elder, whether that's in terms of himself, his mother or the property in general. There's been numerous occasions he could've lashed out. Times he could've so easily told his father exactly what he thinks of him. Made sure the elder doesn't step foot near them again.  
  
Yet never does. He thinks this is mainly for his mothers' sake, because as much as he dislikes interacting with his father, he'd be happy to find a way to keep him out of his life and residence forever. Taekwoon wishes with everything within him that he won't become the man, he's long come to terms with knowing he wants nothing from his father, genetics, inheritance -- he'd gladly skip it all, and definitely wants nothing to do with him on a personal level.  
  
In present and future terms.  
  
He's never longed for a closer bond between them. Never wished that things could go differently in their lives. Never wished that the man show his face more often than he already does. Never wished that the man be more involved with the intricacies of his own life than he already is.  
  
If anything, has truly only wished he could've been born to a different man entirely, but that is something that is unfortunately way out of Taekwoon's control.  
  
And as much as he wishes his mother could share the same opinion on this topic, is also fully aware it's a million times more difficult for she than it has been for him. She had -- at one point --held affection for this man.  
  
It was only after, did she learn how useless a human being the man she loved would become. Or always happened to be, was just talented at camouflaging it.  
  
And in her son -- her only child -- consistently sees the face of the man who would go on to make her life a literal hell. Something of which she struggles with. Taekwoon knows she struggles, knows full well the extent of her pain and so, even in her harshest moments, doesn't hold it against her. He's made a promise to himself that he'll never emulate his father.  
  
He only wishes his mother knows how serious he is about that promise.  
  
How much he intends to keep it.

 

Glancing at the river, Taekwoon wonders where the time went. How it could be possible that mere months ago, this same land showcased the finest palette of hues, the most serene of sceneries. Remote, distanced from the rest of their civilization, the loudest it would become, would be that coming from the birds perched on their branches, from their flocks as they migrated.  
  
In terms of human intervention, it would be from the sound of his fathers' raised voice and unwelcome visits.

He glances at the body being carried by the ripples beneath him, making sure to keep an apt distance, he is still close enough to inspect what is presented before him. Lay there a man, not a boy, who seems to have been nearing his mid-thirties. Pallid skin, there's a thick red substance gushing from the slit in his neck, along with two arrows jammed into the flesh of his back.   
  
Visits from his father were definitely irritating -- as was his general presence -- but were arguably preferable to distant shrieks, frantic shouts of panicked loved ones and ear splitting shots, ricocheting, the sound of blades slicing into skin, gauging flesh, and though the latter was yet to happen before his very eyes, and within hearing distance, when encountering the wound before him, it was almost as if it had taken him to the scene itself, something like familiarity enveloping him, as if he was overseeing the event that led to this man's demise.

Though he had never known this man. 

A thought strikes him, but he shakes it off a second later, his curiosity piqued more at so at wound on this man's throat as opposed to the arrow wound, knowing it can only mean one thing. The man can't have traveled _that_ far, considering the wounds acquired.

Meaning the war can only be closing in on them. Even as far out as the house he and his mother inhabits happens to be, the warring forces are determined to scour each and every square inch of the country, claim it for themselves.  
  
He'd never considered them safe, as such... how could such a sentiment stand in a war zone? But he had thought they'd be better off, harder to reach than their distant neighbors.  
  
But only for so long.  
  
Taekwoon barely even sighs, knowing he has to lead his mother away from their current residence, regardless of how much she wishes against it. It's not the leaving that will be difficult, but the convincing.  
  
He hears her before he sees her.  
  
"Taekwoon," his mother hisses, edging closer to his sitting position, scowl very present. Her hair is tied tightly into a bun, and she wears a look of utter contempt, which isn't so much directed at him, rather their circumstances. "You're out here again?"  
  
Taekwoon's eyes don't move from the lifeless body in the water. "We should bury him," he says, like it's their only option.  
  
She won't look in that direction. "I will not go near that--" there's a pause. "--Thing. Neither will you. Now come along."  
  
But Taekwoon allows her to take the lead, not following behind. He takes the task upon himself, something he's becoming accustomed to, even from the very days of his youth. Education, their means of survival, it didn't matter the area, he'd find his way. With or without guidance, with or without help from his parents.  
  
"I don't know your name," he says, and though it sounds a little gruff, detached, it'd feel more awkward to say nothing at all. "But no one deserves to go nameless, as they float through a river. You fought hard, I'm sure." He knew when he was in the presence of a respected, valued warrior, dead as they may be. "But even the best aren't impenetrable, and evidently, no one is invincible. Rest well. This area should suffice, for the time being."

 

The sky is darkening when he makes his way back to the house. But as the route is effortless for him, in terms of recognition. He does't ever lose his way, regardless of the time of day.  
  
One thing is evident as he takes his seat at the table, and that's that his mother is angry. Again. It's something he's half expecting these days.  
  
Stirring the pot with exaggerated movements, she whips around to face him. "He will be here this afternoon."  
  
Taekwoon suppresses a sigh. With how impromptu his father's visits were, there was nothing of a schedule either of them could plan around, seeing as it changed so often. Taekwoon had been staying out by the river more and for longer stretches of time, for this exact reason. But there were unfortunate times where he'd have to interact with the man, due to the erratic schedule, the impossibility of planning around him. "He told you this time?"  
  
"I only have enough for two meals," she continues, which gives him his answer. She's guessing. He blinks at her, peering, because he feels there's something else she's keeping from him in regards to the situation, though he doesn't ask for confirmation. "You could've been using this time to gather more ingredients and instead, look at you," with what is evident disgruntlement lacing her tone.  
"Covered in blood. Likely he will be here before you have chance to wash up. What's that going to look like for us, Taekwoon?"  
  
"Why should we feed him? Why further encourage his unwelcome visits?"  
  
But instead of replying, his mother ushers him out of the room, telling him to clean up. Something he is intending to do, if not for incessant pounding at the door that occurs the second he makes his way out of the kitchen. His mother insists he answer.  
  
Stalking towards the door, Taekwoon braces himself.  
  
"Son," is the gruff greeting. He edges closer, in hopes of enveloping Taekwoon into a hug, something Taekwoon prominently evades, nose crinkling at the scent invading his nostrils.  
  
"You're drunk." It's not a question.  
  
There's a flippant shrug of the man's shoulders, a lazy, almost sleazy smile painting his lips. "Can't I visit my son on his birthday?"  
  
"It's not my birthday," Taekwoon says tersely, furrowing his eyebrows, but this is less so at the incorrect remark, but more so at the odd flow of their conversation. He hadn't asked why his father was visiting, rather stated that he was very obviously drunk. Communication difficulties like these were persistent with Taekwoon, and as much as he thought he'd become accustomed to them, they kept appearing in the most random sequence, with pretty much everyone he encountered, intoxicated or not. "You're mixing me up with one of the others."  
  
His father peers at him closely, contemplative. He runs a hand through his hair, and the more Taekwoon assesses the picture before him, the more he notes the awkwardness behind the move. "I swear it's someone's birthday..." he trails off. "If not you then who...?"  
  
"You may want to interview your other children on the matter." Though he holds fluent eye contact with him, Taekwoon's face remains impassive. "Or their mothers, for that matter."  
  
His father lets out a hearty chuckle, though it's evident he hasn't truly processed what Taekwoon's just said. For the better probably, if not intoxicated, he'd likely be throwing punches at him by this point, wondering when Taekwoon had 'started to fight back'.  
  
"I think this is the longest conversation we've had for a while, son. Feels like we're bonding."  
  
"'Bonding'," Taekwoon allows the word to draw out from his mouth, wondering if the sarcastic tone gets through to his father in his drunken state. "Interesting."  
  
He's kind of guarding the door by this point. "But you need to leave."  
  
His father peers at him, and it seems as if his vision is blurred. "Son," he slurs, edging closer. He shoves his shoulder against Taekwoon, trying to barge past. "Let me in."  
  
Taekwoon doesn't budge. "Leave," he says. "I mean it."  
  
And though he doesn't push back, his father stumbles backwards as if he's been flung out by Taekwoon, and rather than try to barge through again, stares in astonishment, seemingly behind Taekwoon, before scurrying off in the direction he came.  
  
Taekwoon turns in this direction, blinking to himself. There doesn't seem to be anything behind him, but he knows for certain he didn't push his father.

As he makes his way back into the house, his gaze settles on his mother. The anger ever present. "We could have won him back," she says through gritted teeth, shoulders tense.  
  
But Taekwoon doesn't flinch. "Why would we want to?"  
  
"Because," she begins, sentence starting strong, before the words die in her mouth. She seems at a loss for words.  
  
"Exactly," Taekwoon says. "We don't need him. We never have. We never will."  
  
Before he can even blink, a plate has been thrown against the wall, a shriek emitting from his mother. "You don't get it!" She shrinks against the wall, what had been silent tears becoming wails. "You foolish boy."  
  
"Mother--"  
  
She doesn't look up at him. "Just leave me be," words sounding utterly lifeless, as she curls into a ball.

It's only later when he's in his room and had chance to think it through, does he realize why she seemed so sure -- or even hopeful -- that his father would make an appearance. His father mentioned a birthday, and though he directed the wishes at the wrong person, it was someone's birthday. His mother.  
  
Taekwoon intakes a sharp breath, realizing he hadn't known. This entire time. It's a day she's never let him in on, a day she's never celebrated. He knew what was to be their marriage date came a week later, but that evoked nothing but painful memories within her, because it was the exact same day he abandoned her, for his other women.  
  
Taekwoon glances at the ceiling above him, wondering if there's any way he can make it up to her, thoughts eventually lulling him into a slumber.  
  
She visits his room later that night, waking him.  
  
"Mother," he starts, something like guilt gnawing through him. "Why didn't you tell me today is your birthday?"  
  
She pauses. "Because it is not a matter my child should have to concern himself with. I was the one to give you life, not you me."  
  
He believes it's stemmed from her own upbringing, but wants to challenge the sentiment. "We should celebrate your birthday also," he says. "I should get you a gift, seeing as you gave me life."  
  
His mother shakes her head, perching herself onto his bed. "The best present I can ever receive is the promise that you will not emulate him."  
  
Taekwoon nods, but sincerely wants to be able to do more for her, so makes an unspoken promise to himself that eventually, he will.

 

Days pass, his fathers' visits increase in number, as do Taekwoon's visits at the nearby river. A heavy realization is setting between his mother and himself and as the days go down in number, it's something that must be discussed.  
  
"Mother," he starts. "I am to leave soon."  
  
His mother turns the other way as if that will retract the previous statements, obliterate them from her memory.  
  
"Mother you know I am to leave soon."  
  
"Do not remind me," she says stiffly. "Though nothing but pride should bubble within in this instance, why do I only experience fear?"  
  
Taekwoon wishes he had the answer. "We cannot change our circumstance," he says. "But as I've promised you, I wish you to honor a promise of my own."

"Which is?"  
  
"I want you to promise me he won't be here when I get back," and though he says it with conviction, a confidence she'll honor it on the soul premise of a promise, the light in his eyes dims at the realization. "You can't, can you?"  
  
His mother looks the other way, unable to meet his eyes. "Is there any other promise I can honor of you? Any, my son?"  
  
Taekwoon's shoulder are tense, eyes narrowing. He lets out a breath, but knows exactly what she'll have to promise now instead. "That you will willingly leave this residence and take refuge somewhere safer, regardless of whether I am to return or not."  
  
And what's surprising and almost sickening to him is that as adamantly as she was against this wish prior, when competing against meeting with his deadbeat father, she'll take it without complaint.  
  
"Taekwoon," she begins, voice pleading. "Please hear me out."  
  
"All I have ever done since birth is hear you out," he says stiffly. "And all you have ever done since my birth and obviously before is allow yourself to be this man's -- if I can even call him that -- doormat."  
  
She lowers her head.  
  
"Mother, why do you have so little respect for yourself?"  
  
She snaps her head up at this, and though her eyes are teary and her voice shakes, says, "Maybe you should have more respect for your father, Taekwoon!"  
  
"And incessantly defend him and his ways, as though it will bring his deadbeat self back to you, to repeat the same cycle. Mother, honestly, tell me, what do you see in him?"  
  
"That deadbeat man is your father. Show him some respect."  
  
"That deadbeat man you so blindly defend, is nothing more than the dirt on my shoe and I would not claim his dead body, never mind his parentage. He's nothing of a father, you of all people know that."  
  
She exhales a shallow breath, but doesn't fight back.  
  
"The closer you allow him and his poisonous ways, the more you lose yourself and every hope of getting yourself out of this rut. I have no desire to leave you in such a dire time mother, but I have no choice and no way of stopping this if you allow him back in. But know this, mother, that if you let him in again, to use you and all of our resources, I do not believe we'll make our way out of it a second time. We're strained enough as it is."  
  
"But," she chokes out. "I _love_ him, Taekwoon, do you not understand me when I say so?"  
  
"Can you convincingly call _that_ love?" He doesn't wait for a reply. "Assess it, mother. Look at it for its facts, rather than its fiction. In all your years of knowing him, of 'loving' him, you've become a fraction of the person you and I know yourself to be. You've lost yourself, and what for? All in hopes of keeping this man's attention, as though he's some godly being whose 'love' will cure you of all ills, ignite the fire in your soul, when in actuality, all he is, is a man who gave up on you the minute he saw the opportunity, a man who has sucked your resources dry and left you to clean up his messes as if you were the one to create them; made you believe you have to pull at strings to defend his careless ways, justify his awful behavior as though you've brought it on yourself, a man who knows full well he can wean his way back in once your son leaves for the army, a son that has no guarantee he will even return in tact."  
  
She stays quiet, knowing he has more to add.  
  
"Mother, that's not love. That's you pulling at strings, fighting to keep a flame burning that was extinguished long ago. You are blinded by nothing but a false delusion, a fable you've weaved in hopes of bringing back a man you once loved, a man that never really existed. You took the few good traits you saw in him and you magnified them, deluded yourself as to not see his overwhemingly glaring faults and the abhorrent affect he's had on you and your mental well being." He sighs. "Physical, too."  
  
"Perhaps you are right. And even so," she whispers, the sound a little empty. "How can an unmarried woman of my stature with a child, nonetheless, make it in this day and age? What am I to do, Taekwoon? Where am I to turn, to start?"  
  
"Away from him, mother. That's the first step."  
  
"Taekwoon--"  
  
"If I come back and he's here, in your new residence nonetheless, I'll rid of him myself." There's a seconds pause. "Permanently."  
  
Which leaves her at a loss for words.

 

With the exception of the first day, when introductions are made, the rest of the days they spend training eventually blur into one another, and to Taekwoon, pass by, almost flash light-like in speed.  
  
Their commanding officer, Song Jihoon, already has them heads and shoulders above over units, employing methods that instantly stick, and he's no stranger to pushing them to the limits of what's possible, constantly reiterating that quitting isn't an option, that they have a war to fight and they're going to fight it with all they've got.  
  
He teaches them that death isn't the final frontier, that cowardice is a ton more fearful than a hero's death. Quite frankly, that he's more fearful than death. That if they let him and the unit down, employ cowardice in their methods, he'll personally see to their discharge and make sure they're unrecruitable by any of their units, any of their military standard; banish themselves from their borders, meaning they'd have to take refuge on the other side and become a member of the enemy force, or live out the life of disgraced soldier.  
  
Neither of which being preferable, so most simply do as instructed, seeing death as an easier option, if it's to take place.  
  
With the intensity of the training they've received, the recruits feel they're ready to face the battlefield, come what may, but Jihoon has a different stance, telling them training only prepares a person so much, and the shock when entering a thriving battlefield, is only something that can be experienced when one is in the center of it.  
  
He glances at the soldier to the left of him, wondering how he can look so blatantly carefree, when the nervousness within the hearts of the rest of the soldiers is almost palpable. He walks past Taekwoon, a lazy smile on his face, a genuine shine in his dark eyes. "You ever get the feeling your life is about to end?" He asks, but doesn't wait for a reply. "At least I'm going to die a heroes death."

 

He hears him before he sees him, spitting what he assumes are curses in his native tongue, one Taekwoon's not attuned to, but has heard fragments of, words he's trying to piece together, make a fraction of sense of.  
  
Rather than feel the impact, he glances at the wound he's literally just received, wondering when the pain is going to manifest. Placing his fingers against it, he certainly feels the texture and sees the blood coating those same fingers, but like before, the pain is yet to manifest.  
  
This goes on throughout the battle.  
  
Some of their soldiers are wounded that day, fatally, but it's a lot less than most expect for their first real experience on the battlefield.

 

But as the months pass, that sentiment doesn't stand.  
  
The soldier edges closer, the target on his knees, the barrel of the rifle pointed in his opened mouth. Before Taekwoon can even contemplate intervening, the shot is fired.  
  
And as much as one would expect him to be next, the wielder of the weapon drops the weapon in the thick, wet mud, which in turn splashes against Taekwoon. He edges closer to Taekwoon, but rather than lunge for him, like he's to expect, he stands, and for a whole minute, just stares.  
  
Confusion bubbles within Taekwoon, but for the first time in some months, if not years, Taekwoon stares back, really looking at this man. Particularly at the sequence that appears at the top of his head.  
  
He shakes his head as if to shake what seems to be a hallucination away, but the number... if it is a number, remains.  
  
Taekwoon recalls an instance of two of this happening prior, but it's not something he put much thought into, and definitely not something he confided with anyone. Nor made any sense of.  
  
As if out of his momentary trace the soldier claws his hand forward, aiming for Taekwoon's eyes.  
  
Within a fraction of a second, Taekwoon has taken hold of that soldiers' exact hand, and pulls it in a backwards direction, a screech of pain emitting from the man. When noting the other injuries the man has acquired, that he's heavily bleeding, he trips him up, doing the same to the man's leg as he did to his hand, rendering him unable to move.  
  
It's not difficult to gauge that what the man next says is _"just kill me"_. Even without knowing his native tongue, and probably accompanying a few curse words. And though Taekwoon knows the man can't understand, a smirk forms onto his features, "Rather than let the pain drive you to brink of insanity, where you resort to taking your own life? No. I'll let you do the honors."  
  
As he kicks the rifle towards the man, and stalks off in the opposite direction, sparing a second glance at the fallen soldiers to the left and right of him. He didn't know much about either, but they were from the same unit. He had trained with them.  
  
"Rest well," he said, though it was faint.

  
"You're injured," is the first thing Jihoon states when they next encounter one another. "You need to see a nurse."  
  
Taekwoon points out the commanding officer's own injuries, directing it back at him.  
  
Jihoon shrugs, like it's just a day in the life. "I've had much worse and survived. You're new to these kind of injuries, the last thing you want is an infection." Once they've arrived back at the training camp, he hands him a crumpled piece of paper. "Follow those directions, she should see to you right away. If not, say I sent you specifically."

  
He meets the eyes of the girl, and it's evident they're close in age, though he's sure she arrived to the camp before he had.  
  
"Hello," he says, but that's as much conversation as he makes, as she edges him closer, inspecting the wounds. Time passes, in silence, before she glances up at him, apprehension on her features.  
  
"Were there many survivors?"  
  
"Fewer and fewer as the days pass," Taekwoon replies. "We're heavily outnumbered."  
  
"As I've noted," there's a sad note to her words. "The death toll is spiking. Even those I thought were invincible... they're dropping like flies."  
  
A few minutes of silence pass again before he asks the nurses' name.  
  
"Jieun," she whispers. "Song Jieun."  
  
At this, Taekwoon's head snaps up, familiarity painting his features, as he raises an eyebrow.  
  
She nods, as if it's something she's asked often. "Jihoon is my brother, but we don't really go out of our way to make it a known fact."

Encounters with Jieun go up in number as the months fly by, and though he's injured frequently, the wounds are never fatal. Which garners curiousity from the both of them.  
  
"Survivors?" It's kind of becoming her catchphrase.  
  
He's resorted to telling her the number, and he listens as she mentions the names of the newly deceased, and what she'd learned about them from their encounters. She's much better at giving final speeches than Taekwoon's been.  
  
He never interrupts, simply listens.  
  
"You must have God on your side," she eventually says. "Injuries of this caliber, yet you're still in one piece. What's your secret?"  
  
Taekwoon simply shrugs, wondering the same thing.  
  
She goes on to tell a joke, but once it's out, she doesn't laugh, her gaze suddenly becoming sombre. "You'd think it'd become easier over time. But I feel every loss of life." Her voice cracks. "The worst is when I'm this close to saving one, and I think I've done it, that I've saved them. Then a second later, it becomes clear it's all been for naught. You can never have confidence in this job, much as you may try."  
  
She doesn't wait for a reply. "I wish with everything in me that it was easier, or even that I was better at my job." She glances to the side, chewing at her lip. "But I'm not."  
  
Curiosity bubbles within Taekwoon. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"A little before the war began." She sighs softly. "And I fear that I'm going to be the only one remaining when this comes to an end. Please take care, Taekwoon. I do not wish to meet you in the ways I've met with the fallen."  
  
He nods, but as he lays his hand on the handle of the door, she calls him back, knowing full well how much trouble she could get in with these next words. But she has to say it to someone. She has to have hope that one of them will break away from the slaughterhouse, maybe be the one to encourage the rest.  
  
"Actually," she clears her throat, taking a deep breath. "If I could offer any piece of advice, it would be to leave whilst you still can."  
  
Taekwoon comes to a direct halt at this, raising an eyebrow, almost incredulously.  
  
"Truly," she insists, though the words are now dying in her throat. Maybe she overestimated herself, and the foundation of their... almost friendship. He's listened to her tales and anecdotes on more occasions than she could count and though he didn't give much back in return, she had thought they'd developed something of a familiarity with the other, that she received a different kind of vibe from him than from the rest of the soldiers. As if he knew, himself, that there was more to life than this war. "There are greater pastures, Taekwoon. I know it feels like you're obliged to be here, but at the heart of it, you're not. You could walk away at any point, if you just gathered the courage to."  
  
"What kind of man would walk away in the midst of a war? When thus far he's one of the very few who comes back breathing?"  
  
She stumbles. "O-one that values his life. His future. You'd rather die for glory, duty, than ensure that you're here years from now, alive and well?" Exhaling a deep breath. "Do any one of you even sit down and ask yourself why it is you're even fighting?! Or do you just blindly accept the circumstances and willing throw yourself onto your death bed? What about your family and friends that are waiting back home, on the edge of their seats wondering if you're going to return in one piece? Do you know how many men never even got to say goodbye to their families, not even in their notes because they believed themselves invincible?! For years my brother has brainwashed himself into thinking that this is all there is, when I sit here day in and day out wondering if the next body I'm going to have to place to rest, will be him..."  
  
Though his tone has never been anything but impassive, his next reply comes out colder than she's ever heard before. "We fight so you don't have to. So this country you claim to love can still belong to you and your future generations, so you're able to continuing living in it in the way you deem a birthright. If we don't fight, who else is going to? Do you just expect us to hand over this country? They called the war on, but we'll finish it. Every man knows the consequences."  
  
She opens her mouth, only to close it again, before she quietens.  
  
Taekwoon takes this time to make his way out of the room.

 

He doesn't speak to his bunk mate too often, really only when necessity strikes or when it's in passing. Their sleep schedules are marginally different, Junsang tending to fall asleep faster than Taekwoon. Both tend to be on the quieter side from what he's observed.  
  
One thing he does know about him is that he's younger, by several years, at the least. He hears him cry sometimes, and though he makes no move to initiate conversation in such times, always makes sure the younger has his blanket placed over him and is in a comfortable sleeping position, that there's always enough food and drink for him.  
  
So there's definitely no animosity brewing between them.  
  
In terms of the aforementioned, today is different. He can tell the minute he enters the room that the atmosphere has changed. When he enters the room, his bunk mate Junsang glances up, eyes wide and frantic. He looks at Taekwoon as though he's a mirage.  
  
"Taekwoon-hyung?"  
  
"Everything okay?"  
  
Junsang rubs at his eyes, and it's evident he hasn't been sleeping well.  
  
"My best friend," Junsang says, clearing his throat as he seems to resist the urge to pace up and down the room. "H-he's in a different unit..."  
  
Taekwoon nods, as if coaxing him to continue.  
  
"A-and they just informed me that last night the enemy--" Though his hands are shaking, there's no moisture in his eyes. "Splattered his guts on the battlefield. Just like that."  
The closer he looks, the more he notices the distant look in his eyes. "Like he didn't have family or friends waiting on him. Like he wanted to sign up to this godforsaken place in the first place. Like he wasn't under the legal age, and forced here out of his will. How many time he got told off for not holding the rifle right--" he quietens here, taking a deep breath, as he glances up at the ceiling above him as though it's seconds away from caving in on him. "And the worst thing? I couldn't feel a thing. Thirteen years I knew him and I couldn't feel a thing."  
  
Taekwoon wanted to tell him that he was probably in shock, numbed by recent events, that the feelings would certainly make their appearance later. But it seemed Junsang wasn't seeking a reply, he just needed someone to hear him out. Without interrupting. He knew Taekwoon could provide that for him. So Taekwoon let him. And he listened.  
  
"Sometimes I want to surrender, sometimes I want to murder them all with my bare hands. But mostly, these days... I want to surrender. If it means it'll stop, I want to surrender. What is we're even going to go back to when -- _if_ \-- all this ends? Broken homes, ruins, families. Why is this even happening? We've done nothing to trigger it."  
  
He slides against the wall, knees brunching up to his chest. "I spoke to a dead man on the battlefield yesterday, I held a conversation with him. And I wondered why he didn't respond, for ten whole minutes I wondered why he didn't respond, and I got angry at him. Until I realized he was dead, and he couldn't hear a thing I was saying."  There's a humorless laugh. "Isn't that amazing?" Glancing up to meet Taekwoon's eyes. "But you're here, Taekwoon. You're alive. I haven't imagined you or our conversation, have I?"  
  
Taekwoon shakes his head. "I'm here, Junsang. This is real."  
  
"Thank you for listening. Thank you for being here when everyone else is dying on me."  
  
"Junsang--"  
  
"No really," he says, though his mannerisms are slowing, the faraway look in his eyes isn't lessening. "Thank you, hyung." He gets up off his feet, climbs to up to his bed, and says a quiet, "I'll sleep now."

And it's been several hours, but in those several hours, Taekwoon's barely dozed off. He awakens fully when he hears a creak from up above him, watching as Junsang descends his ladder and edges closer to the room's door.  
  
The minute he hears the door handle twist, Taekwoon knows exactly what Junsang's intentions are. At first, he tries to blank out the sounds of the cabin door opening, convincing himself there'll be no way he'll be able to convince Junsang to not do what he knows he's about to.

But he pushes that thought away, knowing he has to try. However, as he edges towards the door, his steps slow, and it's almost like he's being pulled back by some invisible force.  
Taekwoon tries to take a step forward, but it repeats.  
  
The lantern flickers, window eventually misting over, items on the table shaking erratically once he finally pushes through what seems to be an invisible force. The minute he places his hand atop the door handle, he's flown backwards at the exact same time the items on the table topple over.  
  
Taekwoon curses to himself.  
  
Some time passes, and by the time he finally gets out, it's too late.

A crowd has already gathered around the body, Jihoon at the forefront.  
  
He glances at Taekwoon, peers for a good minute. "Was he in the room prior, any idea what happened?"  
  
"For a short time," Taekwoon confirms. Knowing he can't tell them about the invisible force that stopped him from exiting and the flickering of the lamp and all the other strange events, he says, "I was sleeping, and by the time I woke up and went out, it was already too late."  
  
Jihoon nods. "And prior to this? He say anything weird?"  
  
"His best friend was killed, he was coming to terms with it, but that was all. Hints were more so in the mannerisms, I shouldn't have gone to sleep when I did, I'm sorry."  
  
But Jihoon peers at him for a good minute. "You look like you're barely even reacting to this," he mutters.  
  
Jihoon then turns to his side, noticing Jieun's presence, who sends an unsure smile Taekwoon's way.  
  
"Grief manifests differently," Jieun says to Jihoon, in Taekwoon's defense. "There was nothing more Taekwoon could have done, especially if Junsang had planned it around him sleeping."  
  
"I'm not blaming him," Jihoon says, sounding testy, turning to face Jieun directly, expression stony. "You know not speak out of turn." He makes a point to never mention their family relation, but today seems like the exception. "I helped you here because I knew you could put your medical talents to use, but regardless of family relation, I'm your superior. Get back to work, and get prepared, the bodies will be stacking up in exactly six hours."  
  
Jieun nods, scattering away.

"Help her transfer the supplies, Jung."  
  
Taekwoon does as requested.  
  
"He was our younger cousin's best friend," is what Jieun says as Taekwoon lays down the bandages."It's why Jihoon reacted the way he did, or is going to be reacting that way. He might lash out at a few of you, coming to terms with it all."  
  
"But he witnesses death every day, wouldn't he be used to it by this point?"  
  
Jieun shifts her weight on her feet. "He's better at disguising it than me I guess, but I think this inability to get used to death runs in our family. Not that we didn't see it coming." She takes a breath. "But Junsang had been that way for a while, even before yesterday's events." Eyes downcast. "He's-- he was too young, they both were. There should be harsher regulations, how on earth are kids meant to fight a war?" She tries to disguise the sniffle. "At least they'll be together though?" But the saddened tone doesn't brighten any.  
  
"Jihoon is right, though. I should've done more," Taekwoon says. "No matter the consequence."  
  
Jieun shakes her head. "You did as much as you could. His mind was already made up."  
  
He doesn't tell her about the events that took place in the room prior to Junsang's departure, simply nodding as he walks ahead.

But it doesn't stop him from making an appearance at the small funeral they throw for him, nor from tidying up Junsang's corner. He folds the sheets on his bed as if they're yet to be used, neatly arranges the items Junsang brought with him, and in doing so, stumbles upon a small note book.  
  
A collection of notes, dated and addressed.  
  
To his mother, his baby sister, and most prominently, to his best friend. He learns that his father died in battle some years ago, that the family never really recovered from it. That he was a good man, and well loved.  
  
He leaves the book atop the blankets, knowing Jihoon will stumble upon it and send it off to his family.

 

The change, though he'd knew it had been brewing for some time, manifests clearly after Junsang's suicide. Rumors, in particular.  
  
Strange events keep occurring for Taekwoon but the worst of all, is the out of the blue encounter Taekwoon has with the warlord Hideyoshi Toyotomi, the man who forged this exact war, ruining everything for Taekwoon.

He's riding a large, pale horse, wearing black robes. It's their first real encounter with the warlord, and it's something they've been preparing themselves for since training began. If they kill him, victory is assured.  
  
His eyes scan the line of soldiers lined in front of him, seeking, searching, until finally settling on Taekwoon.  
  
Taekwoon tightens his hold on his weapon, prepared to attack the minute he does.  
  
But rather than lunge forward in attack, the warlord breaks out into a grin, riding closer. "Taekwoon!" He says, as though they're old friends meeting for the first time in some months, maybe years.  
What makes it even worse is that there's suddenly no language barrier between the two of them, nor the rest of the soldiers. He speaks his apparent enemies language fluently, unaccented.  
  
The entirety of the armies, both Japanese and Korean, whip their heads to face Taekwoon. Confusion, and vulture-like expressions coming from both ends.  
  
This doesn't last long, as but three seconds later, the warlord, visibly shudders three times, shaking out of an apparent trance, to make direct eye contact with Taekwoon. "This is not my horse," he hisses. "Possession, possession!" Before lunging forward and piercing Taekwoon straight in the chest. Not once, but twice.

 

When his surroundings come back to him, Jieun comes into view.  
  
He feels groggy, fatigued. "Jieun?" He asks, though it's kind of difficult for him to fully focus.  
  
She avoids his eyes. "I didn't want to believe them," she whispers, fear evident in her voice. "But they were right. There's something not right about you, Taekwoon."  
She's pale, and not just scared, she's evidently petrified.  
  
"Jieun?" He asks, confusion present. "Jieun, what is it?"  
  
"Admittedly you've survived a lot. But this time, you... you should be dead. There's no way a person can survive the injuries you just acquired."  
  
Taekwoon's quiet, waiting for her to elaborate.  
  
To which she says numbly, "He pierced your heart. Not once, but twice. And you live to tell the tale. What am I supposed to say to that, Taekwoon? How is this possible?"  
  
With this she shakes her head in disbelief and exits the room, making way for Jihoon, who enters after her.

He perches himself besides Taekwoon. "Possession, huh? Care to explain?"  
  
"Jihoon, I have no idea what he meant--"  
  
"Well neither do the rest of us. But they certainly all saw you get stabbed in the chest two times. And by no means are any of them expecting you to be alive, right now they think you're dead. But this isn't the first time this has happened, Taekwoon. The ever increasing amount of men that die beside you, yet you live every time, even after acquiring injuries that would kill any other man."  
"I now know you have the strength and ability to single-handedly  win this war for us, and perhaps superhuman abilities are preferable to betrayal, which knowing Hideyoshi Toyotomi on personal basis would classify as, but they're still not allowed here, so you have one night to gather your things and leave this premise. As nice as it has been knowing you, there is no way on God's earth that we can convince the other soldiers that you weren't stabbed in the heart, twice."  
  
"I know a place, far into the outskirts and I can give you directions. Just promise not to return," Jieun says, as she re-enters the room, though she avoids making physical contact with him, handing over the piece of paper. "Here you go."

 

He had been walking a while, main intention once reaching the cabin he was directed to, was to sleep. For however long it would take to recuperate his energy. But it appears that's not going to come to fruition, because the minute he perches himself on the small cabins' bed, far off from any of the prior civilization, the lantern flickers. The strange events he keeps encountering making their way here, too.  
  
But this time, there's a voice accompanying it.  
  
'I would like to apologize for what happened prior, I believe I am in need of more practice in terms of possession a human being.'  
  
Taekwoon runs a tired hand through his black locks, before dipping his hands in the cold water of the bowl beside him, and splashing his face with the cold water.  
  
The candle to the left of him flickers and he suppress his sigh.  
  
'I know you hear me, Taekwoon.'  
  
He doesn't make a move to confirm this.  
  
'Conjure me, Taekwoon. I believe we are ready to converse.'  
  
"Whatever this is, I'm hallucinating. Whatever you are, I'm not interested."  
  
'To answer your question, any question you have had or will have, I need you to stop denying me. We must converse. As menacing as this form may be, or as unbelievable as it currently seems, in the future they have chants and riddles that make my manifestation an impossibility.'  
  
"Good for them for escaping you," he grunts. "But I'm stuck with you until you decide to stop speaking, or whatever the hell it is you're currently doing?"  
  
It chooses not to engage with his previous sentences. 'My brothers are not aware that I am here right now, nor are they aware my form is to change. But I know and I have known for some time, that I must take a new, corporeal form. For now and forever. That form happens to be you.'  
  
He rolls to the other side, covering his ears. "This is ridiculous."  
  
But it only edges closer. 'This entity encompasses... or is to encompass neutrality. Since I am unable to acquire the same form as my brothers, I must seek my own, if I try complete the process myself, it will go against scripture and make it so I lean to the darker side of neutrality. Meaning I will have brought life to death for the second time, and is not how I am to manifest. The second time, I am to take life, in my new form. I need human intervention, I need you. We meet at the most opportune time.'  
  
"When I'm banished from the army and locked away from the rest of civilization because people think I'm superhuman and on friendly terms with the commander of the opposing army, truly the perfect time, truly the perfect situation," the words dripped in sarcasm.  
  
'I have apologized for my miscalculation. The possession of the warlord was a mistake. But you were getting too caught up in a life that was not yours, was never to become yours. Any longer and we will be off schedule. This is the most opportune time. I am to become you, as you are to become me. Please let us converse.'  
  
"So it wasn't a mistake at all, then?"  
  
'The specifics are arguable, but to ruin your army career is not my reason for being here. There are bigger matters at stake.'  
  
"I don't have to agree to any of this, I don't even know what the hell any of this even is."  
  
'Then do it,' the voice commands. 'Attempt to run away from me, but know it only speeds up my process. Know you can never outrun me and no matter what you try to do, this is your future. This is what you are to become. As is always predetermined. This human life you are trying to forge is nothing but falsity. A delusion. You have always been one of us, you have always been a part of me. I will always catch you.'  
  
"So I have no choice in this whatsoever?"  
  
Eerie laughter sounds, though there's a mocking element to it. 'You are to be bestowed with eternity, eternal life, immortality, meaning you will never die, you will lead Heaven on to sheer greatness, rather than live your days out as a tragic war hero who is going to be forgotten in ten years, will not be recalled three hundred years from now. It was never to happen, never to manifest. This is your destiny. The sooner you accept it the better off we will be.'  
  
Taekwoon doesn't reply, but his eyes narrow.  
  
'Third time you have heard this as of late, I hear? Interesting how signs are presented before you, yet you continue to turn a blind eye. How many time can a coincidence be passed off as a coincidence, Taekwoon? There comes a time when you must face the facts, see the situation for what it truly is. This is not your life. It never has been. It never will be.' He hears it swish around the room. 'What will it take for you to listen, Taekwoon?'  
  
"When the events of yesterday are undone and I wake in my bed, to re-do this day."  
  
To which it laughs. The sound chilling as eerie as before. And for the first time in his life, he feels an intense emotion bubble within him, his disgruntlement tangible. An emotion other than indifference manifesting. "Why are you laughing?"  
  
'Because I see you, Jung Taekwoon. I see everything you have been, presently are, and will become. I see the journey, the progression, all of it. You are already enlightened, you have been for some time now. You know of things greater than yourself.  
Nothing keeps you here. And yet, here you stand, ambition rising to defy me. Why? What will you gain from a life that is barely even your own.' There's a short pause. 'Look at me, if you will. Face me.'  
  
"Wherever the hell you are."

'Before you.'  
  
He turns to his front, to see the faintest outline flutter before him. "I should be dead," he says, cutting straight to the chase. "Why am I still alive?"  
  
'You are less susceptible to death than your peers, I have watched over you since birth. You have proven time and time again that you belong to a different kind.  
When you were very young, you mother had once tried to drown you as well as herself. A difficult time. She was unmarried, had just been left by your father. She had wished herself dead and knew you would not be cared for by the father, so believed it best to take you with her. She did not succeed because it was not her time, and you cannot die by those means.  
In war, you watched soldiers drop dead left and center, yet you constantly walked away in tact, still alive. Sometimes unscathed in cases others would have acquired the very worst of injuries.'  
  
"So are you saying you defended me from all of that?"  
  
'You are of a different make, in any sense of the meaning. You can survive much more than your peers are capable.'  
  
Taekwoon raises an eyebrow.  
  
'Human, is how you appear, of course. But as we have marked it, Destined. The truth of the matter is you are a part of me, a piece I broke from myself and directed into the earth's atmosphere.'  
  
Taekwoon tries to suppress his disbelieving scoff. He fails.

'Look here,' he is directed towards a reflective surface, to see nothing but his reflection. 'Where is your timeline? Where do you begin, where do you end? I know for a fact you have witnessed timelines yourself, though you know not how to define them. Truth of the matter is, you are already part of me. A test I told no one about, a test I knew I would need to carry out.'  
  
"Explain my parents then. How was I birthed to them, if I'm a... different kind of being entirely."  
  
'A life cycle always begins somewhere, but humans are simply unaware of so much. They need no proof. A fraudulent child they will claim as their own so long as it follows their natural birth procedure. What you are, in current terms, Jung Taekwoon, is a changeling. From our own heavenly borders. You are pirating a life that is not your own.'  
  
"A... what?"  
  
'A child from non human origins that was exchanged in the place of a human child, which you will grow up thinking you are.'  
  
"But I was not exchanged...?"  
  
'Spiritually, you were. The contents--'  
  
"Wait a minute. Contents?"  
  
'Essence, being. Existence. The contents were exchanged. You are a part of myself that I broke off and put in place of the child your parents lost and in such--'  
  
Taekwoon feels a shiver run through his skin at the thought, did that mean the entire time he'd been living in a skin that had once belonged to someone else? "So did that account for the step one, then?"  
  
'It did, but step one does not involve premeditated murder, it simply means putting life into death. But it is up to you to go through with the second procedure, which involves a killing. So life can be made from the death, which will be you joining with me, entering your true being, my true vessel. A proof that you are capable of the role you are to be assigned, and to stop me from taking form in the darker side of neutrality, a position that has already been filled.'  
  
"So from this, what am I to take in? Had this not happened, would my 'parents' be happy together with the child they always dreamed of?"  
  
'Not necessarily. Life would have panned out just the same, yet without your -- or this hypothetical non changeling you's -- existence. The child died before it was at full growth, so your mother did birth the literal you, however your father--'  
  
He takes a moment to process this. "Isn't my real father at all?"  
  
'Correct.'  
  
"How do I know this is for real and not something you're saying so you can trick me into... agreeing, as such? As if you know my father and I aren't on the best of terms?"  
  
'Contrasting mannerisms which differentiate you from actual humans will be ever present, to the point others will have picked up on them. If you can give me a list, you know for certain this is no lie. Feel no need to verbalize it, if you wish not to.'  
  
Taekwoon stay quiet, because he knew had a list. Almost instantly. And the more he thought about it, the more the dots lined up.  
  
"So the opposite of you already exists?"  
  
'He claimed the role prior to me, as it was intended. I had no intention of stealing the role, I have always been on Heaven's side, but to bring you into existence, there must be an exchange. To take you back there must also be an exchange this is scripture."  
  
Running a fatigued hand through his dark hair, he sat on the bed. "This is a lot to take in, please do excuse me."  
  
'You are handling it better than most,' an eerie chuckle echoes. 'Though, saying so, I do not know many.'

 

"So what exactly do we have to do to complete this procedure?"  
  
'We must test your durability, before I am to send you to complete the procedure. If all goes to plan, we ascend to Heaven together, where I am to convince my brothers that you are not a hallucination and are to be a staple part from thereon out. We will then merge as intended, and you will become the Archangel of Death, in not name alone.'  
  
"So ever since I..."  
  
'Incarnated.'  
  
"--Ever since I incarnated, you've been missing a part of yourself?"  
  
'Precisely,' the entity responds. 'With you, I will be at my full power.'  
  
"So you're saying you put all of your faith in this experiment you had no proof was going to pull through? And if not, could lose a vital part of yourself?"  
  
'I am certain this 'experiment' will succeed. If you are weary now, fear not. Upcoming events will have you react instinctively, have you give in to your true self. The Archangel of Death cannot hide, regardless of whether he is the fraction, the entity or the vessel. As three, he is complete. Three he will be.'  
  
"...Alright then. How do we 'test my durability'?"  
  
'Sit. All you need to do is to sit. To not move, no matter what is conjured before you. To sustain.'  
  
Taekwoon does as instructed, sitting. In a fraction of a second a roaring fire engulfs him, and it's there, evidently. Yet he doesn't feel it, the heat nor the scalding pain.  
It fizzles out a second later.  
  
'Are you still living?'  
  
"Still alive," he says, eyebrows furrowing. How was that possible?  
  
A flute is place before him, thick, gooey liquid swirling as its contents. Smelling as vile as it looks. 'Drink,' the entity instructs.  
  
Preparing himself, he takes a breath before placing the flute against his lips and drinking the contents.  
  
'Astral poison, takes affect instantly,' the entity says. 'Are you still living?'  
  
"I should be dead," Taekwoon chokes out in astonishment.  
  
'Are you dead?'  
  
"...Apparently not."  
  
'Then we have confirmed you are able to sustain circumstances that would kill others in an instant. Now to test your threshold for the pain you've brought upon yourself. This should hurt more so than the other tests did. Punch the glass vase beside you, ensure it shatters.'  
  
Taekwoon does as instructed, wincing at the sound of the collision, rather than the feel of it -- something that goes amiss to him -- shards sticking into his fist, blood seeping through the wounds he's acquired.  
  
He watches in awe as the wounds heal a second later.  
  
'Now allow me to possess your vessel and try this task once more.'  
  
He sits still as possible, feeling an uncomfortable shiver pass through him as the entity possesses him. Pushing his clenched fist forward as he did before, expecting the impact from before, it does not manifest, no pain surfaces. "This is the part of yourself you are living without. Helpful, would you agree?"  
  
It's definitely not his words, but it emits from his mouth. There's a slight change in the pitch, a different aura surfacing.  
  
The entity disengages a second later, leaving a cold feeling in its place.  
  
'You are ready. It may take a few days, perhaps a week before your mind gives you the victim of instinct. The warlord is an impossibility, he is to die a few years from now, you cannot kill yourself as in technical terms you are already 'dead', or of another kind entirely. The date must be exact to the day that you find yourself in the midst of, down to the hour. This must be the premeditated course of death, it cannot just be anyone of choice. I cannot guide you to them, you must find them yourself. I will help rid them, but you must wield the weapon, you must cast the blow. Go say your goodbyes to those you hold dear. I will disappear for the moment.'

 

But the decision is made for him, when takes his first step into his and his mother's new home. He knows she won't be expecting him, especially not this early, but he's certain she will have missed him. Probably writing letters she's yet to send.  
  
Once he enters the new house, he comes to a direct half, knowing something's amiss.  
  
And if it's his father knows he's arrived too, because his footsteps are heard as he makes his way over to Taekwoon.  
  
"Look at you," he says, but there's malice. "My son's a _soldier."_  
  
"What are you doing here?" His steps echo as he walks up to his father, a good few inches taller than him at this point. "Where is my mother?"  
  
His father smirks. "Why should I tell you that, son? You don't even want me to call you son, and the last I remember, we weren't exactly on talking terms."  
  
"Wherever she is and whatever you've done with her, let her go."  
  
"Or what?"  
  
"You won't make it out of here in one piece."  
  
His eyes seem to sparkle. "Neither will she, when I'm done with her. Though," the smirk from before returns, widening. "Can't let you get in the way of that, now can I?"  
  
He pulls the knife from behind his back and Taekwoon tries not to let his gaze fall onto the speckles of blood painting it. Placing it against Taekwoon's flesh, he gives him half a second to catch his breath before he plunges the weapon forward, piercing the skin.  
  
But Taekwoon barely even flinches."Twist it," he says in the place of a gurgle or shriek of pain, making his father come to a halt. "It won't kill me."  
  
So he does, his eyes widening, almost comically, when exactly what Taekwoon had said holds true.  
  
Taking it into his own hands, Taekwoon pulls out the blade, pointing it at his father. "Now do as I say and let her go."  
  
His laughter echoes throughout the room. "You think that's the only knife I've brought? Armor or not, I'm not afraid of you, son." His eyes darken. "But I am afraid of another one. Which she'll be having, if I don't do something about it. And do you really think I can afford another child?"  
  
"Three lifetimes in hell would be preferable to having you as a father," Taekwoon says through gritted teeth. "And just as always, you won't even be part of its life. She raised me fine without your help, so do what you do best and walk away. We don't need you. We never have."  
  
Pulling a new knife out, he points it in Taekwoon's direction. "Your throat will be next."  
  
But Taekwoon knocks the knife straight out of his hand, lunging forward with a precision his father lacks, taking a hold of his throat. "You are not deserving of the air you breathe." There's an anger in his eyes, though usually impassive are burning with a well contained fury. _"Let her go,"_ enunciating each syllable.  
  
"It's too late," he says, "she's probably bled out by now."  
  
And in that exact second, he sees it, clear as day, to the second, hovering over his father's head. The blade he holds in his right hand, he reaches forward and pierces the flesh of the man's abdomen and with one forceful twist of his wrist, his father's neck snaps, and he falls to the floor. And the remorse... the remorse, if it even exists, he doesn't feel it. He doesn't question it. As he casts a final glance at the lifeless body below him, he feels nothing.   
  
Taekwoon runs into the room he believes his mother to be and almost collapses at the sight. Edging closer to her, her eyes fluttering shut, she seems to be edging in and out of consciousness.  
  
"Mother..." he chokes out.  
  
Mouth filling with blood, she coughs, not once, twice. Then a few more times. "I should've listened to you," she croaks out, a single tear dripping down her cheek. "Why didn't I listen to you? Taekwoonie, I'm so sorry."  
  
Cradling her limp body, as she takes her last breath, he runs a hand through her black locks, fist tightly clenched. He squeezes his eyes closed, wondering if he'd just been a minute earlier...

He feels the entities presence before he sees its faint outline. "Will I see her again?" He asks.  
  
'Most go through a cycle of reincarnation before they meet with us. Those that skip reincarnation, a lot less in comparison, we will recruit under the circumstance that they do not become vengeful spirits or have given themselves over to the other side.'  
  
"So I will never know where she ends up, if I am to go through with this?"  
  
'You will have more of an idea than if you force yourself to live out an existence here. But it would be deemed terribly unwise to follow her progression, it may leave scars. In your position, scars would be detrimental.' There's a pause. 'Besides,' its voice sounds further away than he's experienced thus far. 'This was the final step, Taekwoon. The death of the caregivers, those you were passed over to, technically neither being your true parents. This will be the end of your earthly existence and the journey onto the immortal existence you were always destined for. Hold out your hand, do close your eyes. We will temporarily merge and take our ascent to Heaven, the place my kind deems home. A life passed will eventually be forgotten, nothing but a blur.'

 

"So what now?" He asks, turning to face the entity, who's presence is heavier than any time before.  
  
'You have not noticed? Look around you, Taekwoon. We do not inhabit the earth as of current.'  
  
Taekwoon does so, noting their change in surrounding, but not recalling the ascension. With the darkness, he isn't able to make out much, but the temperature is unlike anything he has witnessed before. Cold. "...This is Heaven?"  
  
'No,' is the instant reply. 'Quieten and listen.'  
  
'Though it would take extended periods to harm you, given your form and situation... seeing as I am beside you, you are untouchable by this realm, should it attempt to bring harm to you. A peculiar situation that will only manifest for those of the Dark Alignments, this realm will have the opposite affect than what it does on those belonging to the Light Alignments or human kind, or kinds alike. Clearing your thought process, directing you to where you should be, in terms of thought and future direction.'  
  
Taekwoon nods, wondering if this was the reason the reason land could feel so precariously off putting, if he had been attracted to the river simply due to its form and its temperature, something he could vaguely liken to his current surroundings, though not entirely.  
  
'What do you hear?'  
  
"Less than hear, it's like I've dreamed of this place, seen it before?"  
  
'As though it has whispered to you from afar, given glimpses from afar?' Taekwoon nods. 'Surely. Death has followed you your entire life, as has your true form, as I am to say. Before we truly merge, we need to clear your mind, wash the events of the day away. As our element is dark, we do this in the void. You will become familiar with this realm, perhaps more than Heaven, at some points throughout your journey. We will stay here a night. We will not speak, just listen, allow yourself to cleanse, to heal. To become familiar with what has been calling to you since the beginning.'

   
He hears the sound of footsteps echoing, and the minute his eyes open, Taekwoon takes note of the faint figure that edges closer. It's the entity from before. As he initially believes.  
  
From what he can see, the color that outlines the being, mass even, has changed. The closer he observes it, the more it looks as if it has brightened, by no means softened in shade. Bright in the sense that it's overwhelming to look at directly, blinding. Unlike any shade he's ever witnessed prior. Perhaps ever will again.  
  
The curious thing is, of what he can see of its mass -- its actual form -- he can't seem to scope out where it begins or ends.  
  
As for its movements, he watches as it floats over, noting that its movement is erratic, hard to place a definite pattern to. It stops, then it starts, speeds then slows, regularly losing its way, even in a realm it coins its own.  
  
It appears as if it knows its direction, but simply can't mold to reality of it.  
  
They're not in the void any longer, something Taekwoon doesn't have to be told to know. He can tell by the atmosphere surrounding, mainly.  
  
He knows, technically, that he certainly has not experienced this realm before, but somehow feels as if he's been here before. As if he knows the furnishings and bearings, even without the use of a guide.  
  
Like a distant recollection from a time passed, a sudden wave of familiarity.  
  
He also notes that the entity has quietened. And just as he's about to ask why this is, or if that's the way things are governed in this realm, he feels a sharp pain echo through his lower leg, almost like a burn. And the entity from before seems a room away, not half as close as he initially judged.  
  
"Unbelievable," a voice begins, the authority behind it almost instructing him to look in the eye of the speaker. A graceful, poised looking being with golden hair stands before him, posture perfect, eyes unwaveringly stoic. "A mortal sits in heaven's quarters."  
  
It's then that he feels the weight of the shackles that are tied to him, both hands and feet. And the rope that ties him in place on what feels like a chair, but is unable to see it to confirm. "Wha--?"  
  
"You expected to walk free and do as you please in a realm that is not your own, more dangerous to your kind than you can even begin to comprehend? I do not believe it possible for your kind to get more arrogant than you already are, but daily, I am met with surprise."  
  
A blade that had been pressed against his throat throughout the course of this being speaking, forces Taekwoon to look up and meet the eyes of the speaker, closer than the time before.  
  
"You will explain your arrival, if cleared of the ill doings you are suspected, you will be set free and this meeting will never be spoken of, from here on out. If not, you will be kept prisoner, and I assure you, you will be charged for your wrongdoings, if we are to find any. It is not a light sentence."  
  
And though he wouldn't describe the next voice as chirpy by any means, the new speaker lacks the previous intensity of the man holding him prisoner. "Unhand him, Daehyun," he says, as 'Daehyun' turns to the approaching figure, who is clad entirely in the most magnificent shade of purple Taekwoon has ever laid his eyes upon.

"Certainly there is more to the story than we are presently being let in on." As he directs his attention to the entity that has been accompanying Taekwoon for months. Now that the entity is in his line of vision, Taekwoon notes that, like him, it too wears shackles, though they are faint.  
Daehyun casts a glance that way also. "That he is under socery of this mortal, hence the shakles? Something I did not place on him myself. Only on the mortal. They then appeared on brother."  
  
The entity remains quiet, before edging closer to Taekwoon, shackles and all. 'This,' it says, voice a lot fainter than the previous two who'd spoken. 'Is my brother Daehyun.' In reference the golden haired speaker. 'This is my other brother, Jongsuk.' In reference to the one clad entirely in purple.  
  
Taekwoon glances at the chains on his wrists and feet, then at the entity, noting that to the finest of details, there are no differences between the shackles the two of them wear, and particularly in terms of positioning. "The same brothers you neglected to inform of the situation, I presume?"  
  
Its lack of response is answer in itself and Taekwoon suppresses a sigh. He can almost feel guilt resonating from its mass, but holds no sympathy on his own part. "Please clear up the situation before they 'imprison' me," he utters. "Or worse."  
  
'This,' the entity begins, addressing his brothers. He hears the wisp in its voice, an eerie, forlorn quality, ghostly in nature. It washes him in a wave of cold, though no fear or dread accompanies it. Calm, almost. 'Is Taekwoon, who, from this day forward is going to be my vessel. The body I inhabit. I will not kill him, as there is nothing human in him to kill, simply merge with him, as was always intended. I understand it is a different process than what the two of you are aware of, but it has always been destined. You must allow me to go through with this, if we are to strengthen our force and ensure we are prepared for the wars we are to face in future ages. There is only so much an entity is capable of, we need a corporeal form, surely the both of you understand so.'  
  
There's a deathly pause, so quiet, the sound of a pin dropping would resonate.  
  
Daehyun's stoic gaze does not lessen as he peers at his incorporeal brother. "This is preposterous," he finally says. "Brother, that which you suggest... it is preposterous. Are you sure you are not under the mortal's sorcery? How on earth is this mortal anything but human?"  
  
'The explanation is long and tedious, I am weak, as intended this form will wither once the one I must merge with is located and brought to our realm. I would prefer to scribe it, so that it will make sense to the two of you.'  
  
"I will wait your explanation then. Until then, you two are separated and he is locked up."  
  
The entity comes to a halt. 'That will not be necessary, brother. I do not have long. We must go through with this within hours, it is premeditated that it must be today, I cannot have you holding him captive for days at a time seeking for which you will not find. Otherwise, I wither, I will lose even more strength than at present.'  
  
"If this is as dire as you imply, if this deed as important as you claim, why would you keep it from us, brother? Those you know you can trust with anything. Who would do anything to assist you, once we know it is for the betterment of our realm. Once we know it is intended. This comes out of our written scripture, it is random in its placement. Surely it is only just to assume foul play on the part of the mortal, who by any other means, would not be able to enter this realm. Why keep this in the shadows, brother?"  
  
The entity quietens.  
  
"If you cannot defend yourself, would that not lead in the direction that you are under a magician's sorcery, brother? Who has cleverly paved it so you feel you will wither without his assistance? Surely you understand my weariness."  
  
'Wait,' the entity calls out, edging closer to Daehyun. 'You are right to doubt, I do not blame you for such. I know my reasoning will pale in comparison to what you hope to hear, but I do not hold the same penchant for scribe that Jongsuk does, thus fear my message would not be conveyed as concisely as needed to convince you it has always been intended. I needed to be certain this would work exactly as destined. I could not make room for failure. I could not make room for doubts. I could not make room for questioning, I do not have long to carry this out. If I fail, knowing I could have succeeded, I will not get another option. It is Taekwoon or it is no one. I will be stuck in a gaseous form for all eternity and his lifeline will close, it will never reopen. He cannot reincarnate, we cannot mold time around this event, it must be now. It is his destiny, it was always intended. Taekwoon is not human, not in any sense of the meaning. Taekwoon is a part of me, a part of myself. He is as much Archangel as I am, just the solid, corporeal form I must merge with to reach my full potential."  
  
Daehyun's posture stiffens. "So you are saying that he is an experiment? One you kept secret?"  
  
'I had hoped to carry this out alone, and to meet you in my upgraded form, but I see this has fallen through. No sorcery is involved, brother. Taekwoon had no prior knowledge of my existence until I arranged our meeting. But he is much more agreeable than I would have previously envisioned, meaning he has noticed all that he should have. He has never felt at home in the earth's atmosphere, never truly molded with humanity. Take this as our first attempt at interacting with them face to face, as opposed to always in the shadows. We can learn and develop from this experiment, it is only for the betterment of heaven. I assure you."  
  
Suddenly Daehyun edges closer to Taekwoon. "There is a scent of... death that envelopes you, I know war, you have been amidst a battlefield, you do not walk into this entirely unprepared, then?"  
  
Taekwoon shakes his head.  
  
"When did you meet my brother face to face?"  
  
"Several months ago," Taekwoon answers as if he's in an interrogation he must pass to ensure his life, which he very well may be.  
  
Daehyun's eyes narrow in contemplation, he glances back at the entity. "And we did not notice your disappearances?"  
  
'I always return,' the entity supplies. 'I have accompanied Taekwoon in the shadows for many years. He has witnessed and survived what humans lose their lives to. He is of much stronger make. Death accompanies him but never targets him individually. He is me, brother. The form, the corporeal manifestation that I, the Archangel of Death is to take.'  
  
Daehyun turns back to Taekwoon and doesn't break eye contact. "Do not move, do not even contemplate the thought."  
  
Taekwoon indicates towards the shackles.  
  
"Do only as my brother says. That will be all."  
  
And as the golden haired being makes his way out of the room... "Brother," Taekwoon hears him say faintly. "Have you lost your mind, how can you even be certain this will work? This is unheard of in our realm."  
  
Taekwoon can't make out what the entity says in response but hears Daehyun loud and clearly.  
  
"I will never understand you, but if you must, and if you can promise it will go as planned, I see no reason to sabotage you."

 

Merging as it was referred to, was a grueling process and one that had to be carried out by three people, or two, and an entity.  
  
Even more specifically, two Archangels, one with a humanoid figure, one an entity, and one man.  
  
As specific as it gets, that same man is not actually human in the slightest but a fragment of the entity, an Archangel -- or Archangel in the making -- also, returning home after an experimental life on earth, that he had no idea wasn't actually his own.  
  
The entity is the Archangel of Death, and the third born in his realm, Heaven.  
  
The second born is Daehyun, the Archangel of Valor.  
  
First born, Jongsuk, the Archangel of the Realms.  
  
And it doesn't end at the three of them, because God absolutely exists, as the Archangels claim. And there's also a fourth Archangel, who like the Archangel of Death is presently still in his gaseous form.  
  
Who to Daehyun's chagrin will also be seeking a form in the upcoming months to years. Something Taekwoon's entity was glad to explain, knowing it made his claims a ton more reputable.

Taekwoon was informed that the initial process of merging takes days. Though the very first act -- the entity searing itself to Taekwoon happens within the first few hours and if that isn't completed in those specific hours since their arriving in heaven, the rest of the process is nullified.  
  
The act of merging itself was an unforgettable one.  
  
The entity lined itself up against Taekwoon, matching him in height and stature, before it began to heat up, steadily upping the temperature, its form sizzling against Taekwoon's flesh, searing its way onto -- and into -- him, though it didn't burn the entire way through, rather burned through his flesh and sat snugly inside of his limbs, attaching itself to his skeleton, an non-retractable process, the pain of which is unavoidable, and likely insufferable. Even for him and his make, the entity had told him. He'd feel pain for the first time in his life and it would be a feeling that would not be forgotten.  
  
Nausea, fainting, what would seem like dying -- and would be, had he actually been mortal -- but wasn't.  
  
But it'd fade. It may take days for the pain to fade, but he was promised it would fade.  
  
Days pass, and it becomes apparent that Taekwoon won't be visiting the earth's atmosphere any time soon or ever again, something he'd had an inkling to since the beginning.  
  
That all of the process of merging with the entity would take place in heaven.  
  
The pain is lessening, but there's a slew of other things Taekwoon must go through before he's the 'official' title bearer of the Archangel of Death.  
  
Process one, merging with the entity. Which has been a success. A painful success, but a success nonetheless.  
  
Process two, a knowledgeable memory merge. The entity will share with him every memory it possesses. He will get a head start on the languages heaven hold, but will have to do a lot of teaching himself. Then the history of heaven, the neighboring forces, the enemy forces, earth, death, life, the void--though much knowledge surrounding the void involves spending time in it, getting used to the surroundings. He has been informed that for all that is knowable, he will need to learn. And will be regularly tested to ensure that he does know. Any new discovery is to be studied, analyzed and recorded for future use.   
  
Process three, blood cleanse. His 'human' blood will be drained in exchange for the substance that runs through an Archangel. The entity is already in possession of it, but even at his most stretched out form, doesn't reach Taekwoon's natural mass, so transfusions will be incorporated, and in Taekwoon's honest opinion, they sound nothing short of delightful. Especially if one is familiar with sarcasm.  
  
Process four, which is optional but something the realm seems to really want from him, is him to go through with a procedure that will ensure that he loses all memory of his life prior to entering Heaven and merging with the entity. Just as a safety precaution, just so he isn't swayed to go searching for his late mother, or any other friend or family member of his past life.  
  
It won't need to take place straight away, but the Archangels highly recommend it. Because of the safety it ensures for their force -- Daehyun still has his doubts about Taekwoon's origins and imaginary sorcery, and this would ensure that even if such sorcery existed, it would be neutralized and Taekwoon would be entirely on the force of Heaven, come what may -- and also because it helps them get better at this procedure on its own terms, it helps them master it.  
  
Then comes the training. With all other Archangels and even God himself.   
  
And his first mission, which he's worked out will be exactly two years from now, is to guide someone who is just like himself -- a fraction of an Archangel, the vessel of an entity, to Heaven, the way his entity guided him.  
  
He's spoken to the Archangel in question, asked why the entity doesn't take the mission upon itself, and has been told that the entity is unable. That it's extraordinary that his entity had the power to do so. Entities, up until Taekwoon's own, have never left Heaven's borders, outside of void.  
  
His entity has been the first Heaven bound entity that has walked the earth, entered the earth's atmosphere.  
  
Archangel Jongsuk rationalizes that that is probably why it was so weak by the time they made their way back, but the fact that it made its way back in one piece and held out long enough to merge with him is extraordinary by its own terms.  
  
Both of the entities had always known they had vessels, but neither believed it possible to collect them themselves, and as the days passed, deemed it an impossibility, thinking they'd be in their gaseous forms forever.  
  
Taekwoon's entity had made it his life's goal to ensure that he could collect Taekwoon from earth alone and come back in one piece, the remaining entity has told Taekwoon that it has no idea what that took, what extra procedures Taekwoon's entity had to go through to ensure his success.  
  
And that's why it can't risk it, but knows that Taekwoon can absolutely return the vessel to heaven and help with the merging process.  
  
'Perhaps it was destiny,' it had said to Taekwoon at one point, throughout their growing number of conversations.  
  
And it left Taekwoon thinking, just what is destiny and, like death, why does it follow him so? What links him to this concept?


	6. Section One: Archangel Transition (Jinki)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Saltrw8V3UI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (in process)  
> changed the song; will make sense why when the chapter is complete

**Section One:**  
**Heaven.**

  
As the two year mark edges nearer, Taekwoon notes change. What had once been a struggle, in earning the skills and prestige necessary to be considered more than just a vessel for the Archangel of Death, stops being a struggle almost half way into his transitioning process.   
  
Which is, oddly, doing more bad than it is good.  
  
Taekwoon's always been adept at staying afloat in times of distress and in making his way through difficult situations. He's learned to forge and claw his way out, regardless of odds. An easy life is something he's never known, and fitting in -- something that's beginning to take place, feels alien at the best of times.   
  
Archangel Jongsuk is nothing if not welcoming. It's been said in passing that the Archangel takes a less-is-more approach in terms of company, though Taekwoon has yet to be turned away by him. The Archangel treats him as if nothing has changed, between the brother he knew only in entity form, coming to earth -- something that should not be possible in such a form -- bringing Taekwoon back with him, technically entering Heaven alive, and proceeding to combine the two forms.   
  
The same sentiment does not stand for the other Archangel in question, Daehyun. Archangel Daehyun feels a lot more like a superior than a brother, as the Archangels refer to each other.  
  
Taekwoon continues to refer to the Archangels by their title followed by their name, though the entity seared within him protests, claiming it's unnatural, and will only alienate Daehyun further, make him less reluctant to accept the changes that have taken place within his brother.

Outside of the initial procedures, the process of merging has been a long one, tedious, draining and exhausting in every essence of the meaning. Taekwoon and the entity need to get used to sharing a form, and thus far, that has existed in the sense of them fighting for control, messing up in areas the other knows like the back of their hand, corporeal or not.  
  
Taekwoon in the sense of making infantile mishaps in Archangel related endeavors and the entity in the sense of existing in a corporeal form, after being incorporeal for so long.  
  
Blood clearing is the longest and most draining stage, and Taekwoon has been told that this struggle for power will draw to its end once this process is complete, having no choice but to be at an equal standing.  
  
It's expected that the endpoint will require two more weeks. Two weeks from this day will mark exactly two years since Taekwoon's training began, each stage allocated and followed through to completion, one at a time, as to not overload the vessel. Much as he still holds memory of existing elsewhere, Taekwoon has been forged into a whole other being, and much is showing.

Two years marks the date he is to embark upon his first earthly mission, prove that his training has been a success, that from that moment forward, he is and will continue to be the fully functioning, corporeal Archangel of Death, forever more.  
  
As these two weeks begin to draw to their close, it becomes evident that the fourth and final Archangel -- still in entity form -- requires his corporeal form. Not only has the Archangel fallen ill -- a matter Archangel Jongsuk claims stems from Taekwoon's presence in heaven and his newly transitioning form, the main trigger of longing the Archangel will feel, any attempt at trying to contact his earth bound vessel by telepathy or dream contact, will not only throw the vessel off guard, but make the Archangel's condition even worse.  
  
He is unable to visit the earth's atmosphere in his incorporeal form, and has no idea what it was Taekwoon's entity did to pull the act off, but draws comparison, feels an ounce of shame. Incompetence.  
  
Not only has the entity become ill, it has been getting cranky. And weepy. Every twenty minutes or so they will hear its loud wails as it makes its way around Heaven's borders, the sound of objects it crashes into falling to the ground.  
  
Which in turn, has had a less than stellar affect on Archangel Daehyun, who encounters the entity more often than Taekwoon and Archangel Jongsuk do. And of them all, has the most work to do.  
  
Sparring and training with Archangel Daehyun during his transitioning process, experiencing all brutal training regimes the Archangel concocts has been something Taekwoon's become quite familiar with, almost accustomed to. But this side of him, once the stoic outer shell drops, the side of him that embarks on twenty minute rants, just to drown out the sounds, openly vents his frustration and on occasion, finds himself prone to a moment's sulking before threatening to lock the entity into a box with soundproof barriers, a second away from tossing it into the depths of the void, Taekwoon has no experience with that.  
  
Nor does he have any idea how he's supposed to react, how to work around it throughout training.  
  
Archangel Daehyun is the shining example of what an Archangel is intended to be and everything that they're capable of becoming, and given how long he's been there, Taekwoon has found himself learning so much from him from the simple act of observing. So in times like this, would like to help in some form, if he had an idea of how to go about doing so.  
  
It's taken time, almost the entirety of the two years, for Archangel Daehyun to fully accept what has happened to his brother, the form that had been destined for him. And up until recently addressed them separately.

After one particular training session many months ago, where Daehyun had muttered a gruff, "he may _wear_ my brother--"  
  
"Technically your brother wears me," Taekwoon had corrected, only to be met with a snarl from the golden haired Archangel.  
  
"But he is but a fraction of what Azrael represents."  
  
Jongsuk had chuckled to the side of them. "You know it is serious when the first names are brought out." But the soft smile he wore contradicted his message, voice quietening as he added, "Daehyun does not take to losing well. He gets like this when he loses. It will pass, and it will become obvious to you that through this battle, his respect for you has actually risen."  
  
And as Jongsuk edged closer, said, "If you have been completing your studies you would know Daehyun's true name, also. Though I will not test you this time, expect it next time."

When physical training isn't taking place, he will be training himself mentally. It's easy enough, now that sleep isn't half as necessary as it used to be, though he does find himself dozing off from time to time, since it will take the entirety of the training period for the new way of life to truly sink in, something he's been made aware of and knows the extent of.  
  
On the rare and lessening occasions where he does sleep, it's not for long at all, and a lot more nightmare prone than his human life had been; he will encounter recollections of mangled memories that he'd rather opt out of reliving, given any circumstance. Mainly because the truth is distorted in them, and events much more harrowing than he remembers experiencing find their way of slithering in.  
  
The more the days pass, and the more he becomes his true, enlightened self, leaving mere fragments of his days on earth behind, the easier it is to lose track of which depictions actually happened and which are just the result of his -- new -- kinds' inability to deal with dreaming and with sleeping, at least as he's been warned by the Archangels around him.  
  
Heavens' inhabitants aren't equipped for sleeping and especially not dreaming. Dreaming with the frequencies and neighboring premises that surround them result in nothing but trouble.  
  
He hasn't talked to anyone about these dreams -- as infrequent as they are -- at least not yet. But he knows not only is he beginning to lose hold on what he knows to have actually happened, he's beginning to lose attachment to the memories, to the events of a life passed, which should be disconcerting considering that it feels much like the entities thoughts on the matter -- or Azrael, as he can now refer to him -- but knowing he has a higher calling, that he'll never encounter anything from his past life again, he doesn't put much thought into it, these days. They're just a stepping stone he'll have to live through until he's completed his transitioning process. They don't have to be personal.  
  
Which is why he's welcoming the distance he's truly beginning to feel. The life wasn't exactly his to begin with, and trying to hold onto it any longer than necessary is only going to cause him harm, stunt his progress. His years on earth will be a fraction compared to the eternity that waits him in heaven, he can't ever allow himself to lose sight of that, not in the position he holds, not as an Archangel.  
  
As the entity -- or Azrael, though both are Azrael -- keeps reminding him, he is as much Archangel as the entity itself. Just fragmented. Having lived as long as he did with parts of himself missing, of course there are going to be mishaps and misunderstandings, but the entity, of all inhabitants in heaven, doesn't want Taekwoon thinking that he wasn't as deserving of the title of Archangel as anyone else in heaven, simply because their method of meeting and merging differed from his peers. It was a journey to fully transform of course, but it was always intended for Taekwoon, it had always been his destiny.  
  
The more he contemplates it, the more he begins to consider going through with a memory wipe, once his first mission is completed. Not out of fear that he'll do the unthinkable and try to change any set events, or return to a life that will be long passed by that point, but just so the dreams stop altogether. He knows the need to sleep certainly will once he's fully transitioned, but in the case of falling asleep again, after this, it'd be better for them to stem from a clean slate entirely, than distorted fragments from a past life he now has no connection to.  
  
The past few days, he's been seeing things whilst awake. Hazy, short intervals of conversations. Mostly with his mother. What it meant to have a conversation with his mother, how these conversations lessened in number as time passed.  
  
How his words lessened throughout his years on earth. How his mannerisms never truly aligned with his peers.  
  
Particularly, numbers. He sees his old house, but it's not made of stone. It's made of numbers, the closer he gets, he begins to hear, fragmented conversations, though he's not the speaker. The voices are never familiar, but what he can make out, rings loud and clear. But not louder than the numbers, which he hears, sees and feels everywhere.  
  
It's only when he directs a question the entities way, when no else is around, does he get his answer. What are they? Why do these numbers follow me?  
  
Timelines.  
  
Of the souls he's destined to collect.

When the numbers and their voices fade, though it's momentary, Taekwoon sees a constant repeat. Two sisters. An elder and a younger. It's not difficult to piece it together, why he's seeing this, constantly. None of the other numbers or the voices accompanying the numbers have gone into this much detail, nor are their voices this clear. After guiding the vessel of the fourth Archangel to Heaven, these are two souls he evidently must collect.

His first job as the Archangel of Death.  
  
_'Is father ever going to return, unnie?'_  
  
_'Soojung,' the elder sister says, her voice hushed. 'Keep your voice down when we are in public. What have I told you about calling me unnie out here?'_  
  
_The younger girl clucks her tongue. 'Is it a crime to address you respectfully, Sooyeon? To wonder what happened to father? He never even told us if he was conscripted!'_  
  
_'You know how he was. I could probably count the amount of visits he paid on one hand. He is as much a father as mother was a mother.'_  
  
_'So nonexistent?'_  
  
_'Precisely. If we are found out here, you know the drill. Avoid direct eye contact, do not draw attention to yourself. We are not related. We have no surviving family members. We have no information to give, and do not wish to receive any in return. These lands aren't safe. We make it out of here without drawing attention to ourselves, we're free. We can go anywhere. Find a ship, a boat, we can sail, to our hearts content. Find a life outside of here. I know it exists and it's within our grasp. But the longer we stay here, the closer we become to the end.'_

'Incorrect,' the entity says. 'Not long after they find their ship, they drown. The one aspect you are missing: cause of death. Takes a lot of burden off. Guilt, if you are an amateur. You play no part in the cause of death, much as it may initially seem so. Their fate is predetermined.'  
  
Taekwoon stays quiet.  
  
'But that is not what this is, is it? This feeling of guilt...' There's a pause. 'Fate does not consider you a family person, does it?'  
  
Taekwoon turns away, as if it will help blank out the constant repeat. "They're not my family."  
  
'Good answer.'  
  
"Not just because I don't really exist. Not because the life I considered my own was pirated. These are my father's other children. The sisters, the daughters my mother so harshly criticized. The two who had no choice in their birth. Even if we share a parent, we're not family. They had no idea I even existed, but I'd hear of them everyday. Their very existence cursed as if they'd killed an entire nation. Their only crime? Cursed with a deadbeat father."  
   
'Had you been bore to any other family, these two would be the daughters of your mother and with your father would go on to live a happy life.'  
  
"I didn't need to know that," for a split second there's a note of pain.  
  
'Though the blame does not fall on you. The child you were exchanged for, should not have been. Had it not, their happiness would have been solidified. Perhaps a part of your mother's soul subconsciously recognized this and the only way it could manifest was through anger, but not at you, the child she went through everything with.'  
  
Taekwoon takes a deep breath, eyes closing in frustration. "You don't get it, do you?"  
  
'Guilt? You are correct. I do not understand.'  
  
"The hand you play in this, in all of this. In breaking me off of you and placing me into a chain of events that didn't belong to me and never could, at the expense of innocents. These four people, this goes outside of a soul contract. This goes way beyond a natural chain of events. None of them could have predicted this, none of them had any idea that you would do this, from your position of power. Not even your own brothers. If this had been their predetermined fate, a broken family line, so be it. But it wasn't. You _made_ it so. Every bond I forged down there has been falsified. The mother I hoped to protect no matter what, the father I despised above all else, two sisters that I was supposed to hate, but could only pity... had I not been there, had you not inserted me into a life that wasn't my own, to know that they would have lived happily? Am I supposed to condone that? Do you expect applause?"  
  
'...You would prefer if I placed you into another family line?'  
  
"This isn't getting through to you, is it?"  
  
'Harsh decisions are made everyday, Taekwoon. That is part of our existence as an Archangel, particularly as the Archangel of Death. I needed to prepare you. Though the family line could have been any, it still needed to take place. You needed these years upon the earth. As evidenced, you are better with them.'  
  
Taekwoon peers at his reflection on the surface before him, knowing the sentiment sounds eerily like the promise he'd made to his father by the river, those years ago. "If this is my last chance to say this, given the fact the blood that courses through me belongs to you, more and more as the seconds pass, know that I may be a fraction of you, that I may be becoming you, but I will not emulate decisions such as this. It's not our place to play god."  
  
'It is because of me that you will never need to,' tone purposely harrowing. 'Though you prove once again the reason why I need you. Without you, I encompass only neutrality. With you, I am whole. Without you, I miss a piece of myself, and with time it becomes clear how integral this piece is. Without you, I have every option to lean in the opposite direction, commit heinous crimes. Taint my name, my position. But regardless, this is an aspect that exists for us. And it is with great discontent that I bring this piece of knowledge... try as he may, a scientist never stops experimenting. Sometimes he must have enough courage to take the difficult path. And he must live with this decision, remembering the many courageous acts he has taken upon himself. I have seen the future, Taekwoon. With your brothers, you lead Heaven to greatness. We are a force to be reckoned with. We are to face enemies of the highest caliber. You will one day come to understand my reasoning. And we will be better because of it. You will better us.'

 

He'd rather be early to his training session and transitional check up with Archangel Daehyun than sit through any more conversations with his fragmented self, having to live over the replay of conversations so life like he feels he's in the scene, of his future victims.  
  
His estranged siblings.  
  
Taekwoon's always been a person who dealt well with neutrality, and for the longest time, had had little faith in what he assumed was his own race, humanity. But he feels that's morphing, morphing over to his actual race.  
  
The Archangels.  
  
Just how far would they go to reach their utopia, how many innocent lives would they plough through in the process, saying the end justifies the means? They had just as much order to follow through with, as everyone else did, if not more. The boundaries they weren't allowed to cross were above human comprehension in their severity, and here he was conjoining with an Archangel who wanted to test those boundaries, push them for what they were worth.  
  
As if there weren't a million orphaned houses he could have entered into? A struggling family who were unable to conceive?  
  
Why break up what was supposed to be a happy, loving family, and force their soul contracts to alter to their new circumstances, knowing it led them to a life that wasn't intended to be theirs, just as Taekwoon had? How could someone's fate and destiny be altered by the one being who'd vowed, come what may, to protect it?

The one being _trusted_ to protect it, considered to be the most qualified for the job?   
  
It wasn't one person that was affected here, it was four. If the entity felt it had to be hid from its brothers, did that not mean it had shame brewing within it, somewhere along the lines? A realization that even as a entity this being was beginning -- or had always been -- become too powerful for its own comprehension. What would giving this being a vessel do?  
  
Make sure an act like this didn't take place again, keep it in check, ensure it stayed entirely on the side of good, in the best case scenario.  
  
But in the worst? Worsen that. Give it all power and opportunity to wreck havoc, kill as many as it pleased before their time, alter as many lifelines as it wished to, simply because it could. Simply because no one could stop it.  
  
Simply because it liked it.

 

"Lamenting sends one to the brink of insanity, especially in a realm such as this, it should be warned."  
  
Taekwoon glances at the golden haired Archangel, expression inquisitive.  
  
"Nothing gets passed me," he says simply, and for the first time since knowing him, Taekwoon notes the shift in the atmosphere, though as poised as always, there's nothing that suggests challenge or disdain in the Archangel's expressions, tone or body language. "Though I know nothing of living a mortal life, I know war. Wars are not always fought between men and do not always incorporate swords, sometimes there is war of mind. War between souls. Vessels. So on."  
  
Taekwoon listens, wondering if the Archangel can tell that this war is a lot closer to home. And happening within him.  
  
And the entity seared into his bones.  
  
"You have lived a life that you have come to know was not really your own, and have to come to terms with the knowledge that your purpose exceeds that of the vast majority of your earthly peers, and also that you are missing integral parts of your mechanism. It will take time and adjustment, not just physical. Mental also. Some feelings may manifest, feelings that may drown you. They may feel like suffocation, but once you get on top of them, you will realize they were merely just a helpful pointer in the right direction. Is there a feeling that engulfs you as of present?"  
  
"Regret," Taekwoon says the word slowly, as if tasting it to see if it feels right in his mouth, or entirely out of place. If he were to be honest, he wouldn't be able to define the feeling that currently -- and has been -- engulfing him, he just knows he wants to distance himself from it. "Fate is predetermined, which I understand, which is the answer I'd expect and respect in response. But is it not the duty of the Archangel to uphold their position, stick to their purpose no matter the circumstance, even if that circumstance tears them apart inside?"  
  
"There are occasional exceptions. Tremendously rare, oftentimes tremendously painful. But yes, it is expected the Archangel holds true to their purpose. No matter the participants involved." Archangel Daehyun edges closer, the tool he's about to use to check Taekwoon's blood process placed beside him. "Tell me more about this regret of yours."  
  
"It seems to have come onto me all at once. I can't help but think, when I'm alone, for that small stretch of time per day, if I had've returned sooner, would it have saved her, the woman I believed to be my mother? Even without me in the picture. If she'd never known me, if I just happened to be some passerby, and acted without thought, as if the most important thing in that moment and forever more was ensuring her survival, ensuring her justice... would she have made it?"  
  
"No," Archangel Daehyun replies in an instant.  
  
Taekwoon stills, feeling ice wash over him. "No?"  
  
"You would not go through with, convince yourself as you may. That it not your purpose."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Because you are not me. These months under my care may have affected your thought process, I see that now. I must apologize. Sometimes I forget that this is new to you, that you are still developing. It will all fall into place soon enough, questions like these will not haunt you."  
  
"Maybe so. But I wonder... did she let him in knowing what would happen to her that night? Do people know when their time is up, does the mood of the room suddenly shift, does the moon shine its light a different way? What makes a mother, anyone, throw away, discard, warning after warning, in belief they have their own best interests in mind, that the thing killing them, is actually saving them? What went through her mind that night, when it dawned on her it would be her last? When all my warnings had been right, much as she tried to deny them?"  
  
"These are the kinds of questions I would expect from you." There's a second's pause. "As strange as it may sound, she may have felt most in control in that moment." Daehyun glances at Taekwoon, holding eye contact. "Perhaps she felt she had a higher calling, and it that moment, the clarity the of the situation dawned upon her. She had something greater to protect than her own life, something like her child, as she knew him to be. That she would rather place herself in the firing line, than her child. She likely would have repeated her choice, if given it again."  
  
Taekwoon scoffs to himself. "Even if that same child can't die?"  
  
"A mother would not see that. No child is invincible, every child must be protected. As it stands, many sign the events of their life away before they have even taken form, and no matter how they may stray from the path, will find their way back to it."  
  
Taekwoon contemplates this. Finally, he looks directly at Daehyun. "Would you ever do that, as the Archangel of Valor?" He asks. "Throw your own life away if it meant protecting a higher cause, or someone extremely dear to you?"  
  
Archangel Daehyun stays quiet, peering at Taekwoon as he had before. "You are battling something. Excuse my saying, but I feel it may be the shards of your humanity that still remain, and are soon to leave you. I had had a warning that this phase would be the most difficult for you, and I wish to say, that I do not blame you. I empathize."  
  
Taekwoon takes a seat besides Archangel Daehyun.

"To answer your question, Archangels are of the toughest make. To find one who could dismantle us would be an impossibility. Though by no means do I recommend arrogance, we are not easily defeated. I do not see myself ever dying."  
  
"Outside of the mechanism, outside of the abilities, if by some miraculous odds, you felt what my mother and many others do the night they die, and someone, somewhere cracked the Archangel killing code, if there was a higher cause or something you held dear, needed to protect, and dying in exchange for that was the only way how, could you see yourself going through with it, even if it meant going against your purpose, even if only momentarily? Is that what this position of authority entails, is that what these extremely rare circumstances entail?" Much as he'd worded it to fit Daehyun's own purpose and circumstance, had the ensuring of Taekwoon's existence and arrival to Heaven been the entity's primary goal, its higher cause? Did it come at cost above all others?  
  
Daehyun seems to be in deep contemplation. "You must be willing to protect those weaker than yourself and prepare yourself for future wars, and enemies of high caliber, of course. But never will you walk into a fight with the intention of losing your life, that is not something an Archangel needs to worry about. As for the question you ask, I have never had anything that dear to protect, outside of my realm and brothers," he says, and it's rather a statement, with an intention of informing Taekwoon, not a judgement of any kind. "I find this question a difficult one. I have never known what you speak, I do not believe I will ever do so. Heaven is well equipped, its warriors are made with impenetrability in mind, we are trained to hold our own no matter the circumstance or enemy, as is Heaven. We can all hold our own."  
  
"Understandably," Taekwoon says, and he can feel the exact second the entity gains control of the vessel, which happens to be his own body, steering him away from delving into his true implications, next discussion point, though it's his own words, his own memories it's accessing. "And I suppose that's why Heaven will win. Humans, they don't think like this."  
  
Archangel Daehyun stays quiet, prodding Taekwoon to elaborate.  
  
"When we were at war... so many vowed to die in honor of their country, so many vowed to die in honor of, none stopped to think about what would happen after their death. To their country, their world. None of them even bothered to question if they had ensured their force a victory, they were at ease in the thought of dying for their country.  
They simply believed they would prosper, that even without recording the events, the future generations would just know who these individuals were and what they'd do for their country, that their reverement was a guarantee, that they would live on for centuries afterward. They thought that by killing one man in million, they'd saved their country from thereon out, as if that same man didn't have a future generation of his own, men to pass the job over to. Teaching the same principles. Instilling the same ideology. Repeating the same process.  
Rather than equip everyone with strength of mind and body, teach them what to do in such a dire situation, their force consisted of a handful of men who'd made a pledge that they'd die fighting, not realizing that if they lost, if all of them lost -- which would not have been a surprise, given their supplies and levels of fatigue, and their inexperience in all that war entailed -- no one else in the country would have any idea of what to do, or how to fight, where to hide. What the enemies' weak point was. Not realizing their entire country would belong to the enemy force because of this lack of education, the civilians at the enemy force's disposal.  
Never once did anyone suggest building upon what they already had. Never once was there a suggestion of teaming up with another land, or anything outside of the human race. Even to the last man, their stubbornness prevailed.  
Had they requested help from the force of Heaven, who I have been informed have hidden in the shadows since the dawn of time, there would be an assured victory.  
But that would never happen because humans, from what I saw, they don't want to develop. They cannot deal with the thought of anything being more important than them, being better at what they do than them. I am not surprised that Heaven-kind has watched from the shadows and gone so long undetected, none of these people even care to look. They already believe they hold knowledge of everything that exists and is to exist.  
At one point I even began to think like them, and it is a thought that makes me shudder. The mind is susceptible to brainwash after a time, and there is no thought scarier than the loss of the mind, victory or not."  
  
"Azrael, or your entity self said you were always subconsciously aware, this I am realizing for myself as we speak. You have never been a warrior, Taekwoon." He'd never heard him call him by first name basis. "A warriors' pride you are not expected to understand. Humans, for all their flaws, as you say, are stubborn. Their stubborn pride, especially in this area can almost be considered admirable."  
  
"And idiotic."  
  
Archangel Daehyun nods. "Though, it has been said our two races will meet in due time. As you say, we must give them time to accept that they are not the only intelligent race that exists in this vast, expansive universe. And let them delude themselves into thinking they hold the utmost power and control, even as we pull the strings from behind the scenes, until they are ready to interact with us face to face."

"Excuse my saying, but you appear to be quite amicable this evening."  
  
Archangel Daehyun appears to perk up at this, as if he'd hoped Taekwoon would take note of it and point it out. "Raphael promises his vessel will meet with him soon, rather than later. That the wailing will cease. That clarity will return to me when this takes place. I realize, in this precise moment, I have much to be thankful for. Brighter days are upon us, Taekwoon. Once you guide the vessel to Heaven, everything shall go back to normal. Also, I spoke with Jongsuk, relating to the topic of humanity, one we just discussed. He told me of later days from here, after we have interacted with their kind, that I may come to a realization that I have misjudged humanity this entire time, that I have more to learn from them than previously believed. That I will encounter them within closer proximity, before the rest. Only time will tell what lies in store for me."  
  
"...Where did he find this out?"  
  
"Divination via the void. It is actually an area of your expertise, but because of his Alignment in our force, he is able to manipulate it some degree also. You will feel much at home once you begin visiting the void, spending time there. Now for your check up."  
  
After going through with the procedure, Daehyun comes to a halt, glancing at the substance, almost in awe. "It has cleared," he says, as if tasting the words, like they're of a foreign tongue, not supposed to be there at the precise moment. "A week earlier than we predicted."  
  
Taekwoon sits up, blinking in surprise. Especially at the implications of this. Taekwoon wasn't human, so didn't really have human blood to begin with, but much as the entity had pointed out, his blood was of a different color and would be until the transition had taken place, gradually lightening, the more Archangel like he and his thoughts became. The more his purpose settled in and was accepted within him. "Really?" Perhaps the final test was standing up to the entity, proving he could stand his own. Realizing that he was a necessary part in the mechanism, just as necessary as the entity and the title itself.   
  
"Were we wrong in our prediction, or has something gone gravelly wrong?"  
  
After mulling it over for five minutes, Daehyun comes to the conclusion they were wrong about the prediction.  
  
"Welcome then, Archangel Taekwoon," he goes on to say. "Your first earthly mission is to begin tomorrow morning. Return in good health and with accompaniment, or else we are to begin again the next morning. And the morning after that, until we get our desired end result."

 

  
Jinki catches his breath, leaning against the wall. He wants nothing more to sit back, lay down and allow himself a few hours of sleep, distract himself from the events of the day.  
  
Instead, he's prowling around his house, playing hide and seek at the request of Jinah, which he supposes would be fine, had it been any other day. Had it not been the fiftieth time this week she's requested to play it.  
  
Had it not been a disaster of a day at work.  
  
He's trying to keep his energy up, at least for her sake, but no matter how he may try, his thoughts keep flickering back to the image of the patients he'd so heartily promised to save, carrying with it a confidence, a promise of such caliber, the other doctors could only hope to emulate, seeing as it held through on every occasion... only to be haunted by the images of them taking their final breath, for the first time in his entire career.  
  
He knew it was the reality of the job, that sometimes, no matter how hard you tried to prevent it from happening, you would lose people. At least as he's been warned. But the peculiar thing about Jinki, for as long as he'd been alive, had been the fact that he was able to prevent the loss of life, even in the most impossible of circumstances.  
  
He didn't take lives, he saved them. There had been so many instances where a person was close to death, hours maybe, and after one interaction with Jinki, they'd be nursed to full health.  
  
But with that, came recognition, and expectation. Patients spoke, doctors gushed. The hospital was gaining a reputation and it was a reputation he had to uphold, a reputation he believed he always would, because for as long as he'd known, this talent to heal life around him, had followed.  
  
And ever since he'd known her, this luck he had around people in saving them, it only strengthened when around Jinah.  
  
The only day of the year where his ability was affected, halted in its tracks, was the 12th of September, two days from Jinah's birthday. It had been going on for the past four years, to differing degrees. The first year, he had no patients to care for. The second, the scars that would so easily heal after a visit with him, persisted months after the procedure. The third, he couldn't heal those with sickness, no matter how he tried. This year? Death.  
  
Patients had died. Patients that were being treated by him. Directly by him. Had it been an event he was predicting, an event he'd come to terms with, perhaps he'd deal with the aftermath much better than that at present. He could have called off work for a day, feeling a moral obligation to the hospital and the citizens, as well as being someone who'd never called in sick, nor quit when times were tough, didn't. Now, because of that, the name, the reputation of the hospital he'd tried so hard to protect, was in the process of being doubted, questioned.    
  
"Jinah," Jinki calls out, fatigue evident. "Jinah, I suppose there's no easy way to say this, seeing as it's your favorite game, but can, we, uh... can we call it quits for today? How about I prepare a meal instead? You probably haven't eaten in a while, aren't you hungry?"  
  
He suppresses his sigh at the lack of response. "Jinah?"  
  
He glances around the increasingly empty hallway, coming to a prompt realization that she's nowhere within vicinity. So must be outside.  
  
He lets out the sigh he's been holding, heading to the back garden.

 

"Jinah," he says gently, once locating her. "What are you doing?"  
  
She grins up at him, eyes twinkling. No mentions of their game of hide and seek, which as thankful as that should make him, could only mean one thing, she's at a different age than she had been twenty minutes ago. Or believes so. It's something Jinki encounters on a daily basis, so it isn't something he's taken aback by, any more. However September twelve is the day where the age shifting accelerates, and at times, is difficult to keep up with.  "I wanted to play on the swings!"  
  
"Jinah..." He starts. "I've already told you, you're too big for this swing. Come on, let's go inside. Dinner won't take long." As he edges closer, taking a hold of her arm, to lead her inside.  
  
She pulls her arm out of his grasp, eyes narrowing. "Not you too," she says lowly. "People keep saying that! Why do they keep saying that? What seven year old isn't allowed on swings?!"  
  
"Jinah, we've been through this. You're not seven. And twenty minutes ago, you didn't think you were either."  
  
Her eyebrows draw together in deep contemplation.  
  
"Jinah... you're turning twenty four very soon. I know you don't like hearing that but..."  
  
She flinches at this, brunching back. "You're lying," she insists. "Y-you have to be lying."  
  
Jinki perches beside her, worry evident. "Is it not September the 12th? Is your birthday not September 14th?"  
  
"Then I'm turning eight," she says as if it's obvious. "Twenty four is... you _promised."_  
  
Again with this promise he can't recall. "Jinah..."  
  
She gets up on her feet, pushing past Jinki on her way inside the manor. She stills before the door, turning back to him, eyes void of emotion. "I thought you were different."  
  
Jinki runs a tired hand through his hair, chasing after her.  
  
She's by the stairs by the time he catches up, words as clear as day, her entire demeanor different, the closer he looks, he swear her irises line golden.  
  
Jinah believing she's anywhere between the ages of seven and twelve happens on a daily basis, so it's never a surprise to Jinki when she gets into that state of mind, she flips between ages on September twelve, but golden irises? That's an entirely new occurrence.

...Probably a trick of the light, Jinki assures himself.  
  
"I thought this city was different. I thought you _knew_ this city was different... but it's just the same. You're all just the same. Why should I bother helping, when the only time I need help, I'm told I'm lying? When reaching out to you like this... it's all for naught. For years I've been trying and for years, you've been ignoring my cries. Tomorrow you will remember I wasn't acting like myself yesterday, to an even more peculiar state than usual, that yes, I keep flipping between these ages, adult one day, child the next, with this irrational and incessant fear of the age twenty four, not realizing, completely unaware that my time is running out. Unaware that in two days, it's over for good. If you don't help now, you'll never be able to help again, Jinki. This is the one day of the year I get to regain my clarity, and in these past four years it's been stronger than ever, and for three years you've ignored it, just like you did with all the years that came before it. This year is my last chance. To not only save myself, but save our entire city. Don't turn me away as if you don't hear me saying this."

She sits atop the top step, staring at him, an empty look in her eye. "I always told you I'd die if I reached twenty four. That if you allowed me get to this age, I'd die. You knew that when you let me in here. And now you're pretending like you can't remember, avoiding the promise you made."  
  
Jinki pauses, because he legitimately can't recall this event taking place. "What am I supposed to do, Jinah? -- Murder you? How could you request that of me?"  
  
"Well if I recall correctly, that's something you're unable to do. All you do is save. Save and save and save again. Yet the one that really needs saving, you turn a blind eye to, forget she's the reason you're even able to do what it is you do for a living, that this has always been the act of teamwork, and without me, a half is missing. All I ask is that you extend some of that to me, that you help me the way you help everyone else."

"Jinah, what... what are you talking about?"

"On this exact day, for the past four years, I've lessened my hold. I know you've been keeping notes of the events, I know this day throws you off axis. I know you had to fight within yourself over whether you should take the day off or go into work as usual. And you made your decision, just as I made mine. I didn't assist at all today, and what came of it? People _died."_

Jinki freezes in place. "Jinah--"

Guilt washes over her, but she sits still, posture unwavering. "What else can I do to make you realize? You're not the only who helps people, Jinki. We've always been a team. But our-- _my_ time is running out. We have two days, or it's over for good."

"For good?"

"Not only will I die, the patients you've vowed to save... so will those you've already saved. One by one, they will fall. Your life's work, crumbling piece by piece, person by person. Life by life." 

"Jinah, I... I don't understand..."

"Have you ever felt like something was off, Jinki? Like the city you inhabit... simply shouldn't be?"

Jinki takes a seat himself, thinking it over. "No," he eventually says. "It's perfect, everything's perfect. Crime rates are miraculously low, prisons are completely empty, life expectancy is..." he pauses.

"Miraculously high?"

There's a silence, a myriad of emotions flickering beneath Jinki's pupils.  
  
"It's a difficult truth to accept, isn't it? The thought that we haven't been healing anyone, that they're simply incapable of passing on."  
  
"That can't be," he insists. "We see what we do every day, Jinah. Without our assistance so many would have passed on. We are helping people, we always have been. Anything else is simply illogical. Better yet, impossible."  
  
"I thought so, too. For such a long time. But on this day, I regain clarity, I see our situation for what it actually is. How else can we explain it?"  
  
"Explain what, exactly? What am I missing that you're evidently seeing?"  
  
"Everything," she chokes out. She glances at her palm, inspecting it. "How old am I, Jinki, really?"  
  
"Twenty three. Twenty four in two days."  
  
"Really?" She asks, staring at her palm once more. "Then whose skin is this? How can I be two people at once? Why is Nana's cry so loud, why is she so good at overpowering me, silencing me? How is it a supposed soon-to-be twenty four year old can be taken over by a literal child, with no means of stopping her? ...And why won't she leave? I have no control over her, she just... appears. I can't stop her appearances, but I swear, with everything in me, she's not me. She's not Jinah."  
  
"Jinah..." How was he supposed to tell her that she wasn't well, that she hadn't been for some time, when they'd only made this much process because he'd been the one to refrain from overtly saying this? The only one capable of breaking through to her in both states. The only one both states trusted enough to be listened to.  
  
He couldn't break out and tell her that 'Nana' -- as she called herself -- didn't actually exist, now could he? For all he knew, Nana could have been a person in Jinah's life, many years ago. The only fragment remaining of a past she'd blanked out, erased, simply because her mind had no other way of dealing with the events that had evidently taken place.  
  
Jinki had only met her after these events had taken place, under a very unusual circumstance at that, so he had no way of filling in the blanks himself.  
  
"I know what you're going to say," she says, letting out a sigh. "Please don't."  
  
"Having gone through a traumatic event, Jinah, it's very normal to find yourself regressing as a means of coping."  
  
"Maybe that is what's happening with everyone else, Jinki. But not for me. I-I... it's _different,_ okay? I'm not... I don't _mean_ to do this. I have no control over it... Nana isn't me. She's... I swear she's an entirely different person. The Jinah you've come to know, the one you grew with, lived with, that's me. Nana only appeared when--" She stops, gaze locking onto Jinki. "Can you recall? I can't."  
  
Jinki takes a breath, chewing at his lip. "The exact date or year? Unfortunately, no. But for as long as I can remember... you're right. There has been two of you."  
  
"But how can you say that if you're not sure?"

Jinki's quiet.

"It's only on this day do I know for sure that we're _wrong,"_ she whispers, though the whisper sounds a ton more confident than her earlier tone. "In any assessment we've made or haven't made about our circumstances. It wasn't always this way, and it's on this day that I... I remember. I see the situation for how it is. I say I'm Jinah, I insist upon it, but..."  
  
He nods. "...For all we know, Nana may be the real you. Jinah, as much as I'd pray she isn't, as knowing you all these years has been nothing short of a blessing... how can we be sure she's not just your coping mechanism, a savior you invented when you felt you had no one left...?"  
  
"No, no," she quickly intervenes. "Not like that."  
  
Jinki raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Who is Jinah, Jinki? Who is Nana? Most importantly, who am I? Why do I only feel this way on September 12 and why is it that everything makes a million times more sense than I've ever dared question, but at the same time, none at all? But I see... clarity. Truly, I do."  
  
Would they be going in circles over this all night, until one of them fell asleep? Jinki suppressed a sigh. "And that clarity is...?"  
  
"That we are in the midst of an impossible circumstance. We do not encounter death in our city, because death does not visit here. Death visits everywhere _but_ our city."  
  
His expression morphs into incredulity. "Then explain today?"  
  
"I-I was getting to that," she says softly. "Death doesn't visit this city because, maybe... it's the soil, the water. But a part of me thinks that maybe... it's us. Because we believe so strongly in our purpose, that somehow... as impossible as it seems, we've molded our circumstances around our situation, and we've gotten so good at it, that we've ended up with an ideal scenario. No death, no crime. Not realizing that..." She stops here, chewing at her lip.

A silence envelopes the room.

"That the better it gets, the more we forget." She twiddles with her thumb for a moment, wondering how she should present what she's about to say. "And we never questioned it, in all of these years, because we had no idea that there even was something amiss. The only logical explanation I can draw from that is that it's the city itself or we..."  
  
"We...?" Jinki prods.  
  
"We had our memories wiped. Somehow, somewhere, by someone. ...Or thing."

 

'Through this mission, you may realize where I was coming from in what I did, also that these experiments, until further notice and development, must be conducted alone. You are to begin by correcting your first mistake.'  
  
Taekwoon raises an eyebrow. "My first mistake?"  
  
'Our first mistake,' 'Azrael' corrects.  
  
"Are you that unwilling to take responsibility for what it is you did? Something I had no control over?"  
  
'You are me as I am you. You speak as though you wish to skip over this fact. Take it as simple as I can make it. Before you incarnated, you were a piece of me, making up the almost whole, us. Minus the vessel. To act like this was not discussed and agreed upon prior to your departure is simply preposterous. We both knew we had to go through with this, and we did. Not just I, us. You and I, as is the way it will be from here on out. The blame that falls on me must also fall on you. Until you are ready to accept this, we live in a state of separation when we were once whole, which is a mistake.'  
  
"And if this entire thing has been a mistake, what happens then?"

'Not only is it not, by this stage, we are unable to turn back. We are seared within each other. It would require destroying yourself, ultimately killing death, something that even death itself is incapable of doing, I must remind, and is out of the question.  
 Possible, but very inadvisable, is continuing as you are doing, in wishing -- and planning -- to go against everything I suggest, putting us at constant odds, rendering yourself unable to do the duties required of you. This will result in us being off balance to the point neither can get anything done, as we are not separate entities anymore, and eventually all of our duties will fall upon the shoulders of our opposite, which can, quite frankly, end in carnage on earth, and any realm otherwise.  
 Be mad, despise me, us, whatever, but realize that outside of one decision you did not like, and the four unfortunate victims of that decision -- whose souls will pass on and the lifetimes spent on earth will simply be a blip in their timeline -- you have the entire cosmos to think of. The world will not turn if death is not doing its job, the time I spent focusing on re-recruiting you, bringing you up to Heaven, much as I tried not to let it swamp me, it is no lie that you were my primary focus, and as much as planning ahead helps, in ensuring that Jongsuk kept check on our duties and tailed the void, imagine the unintentional carnage that has ensued, slipped through the cracks, during the occasions he was occupied. We have a lot of work in general, but we must fix the anomalies that have stemmed the time I spent down in the earth's atmosphere. Unlike Light Alignments, who would benefit from the time on earth, Dark Alignment members need to be as close to the void as physically possible, any time away means uncompleted work. Obviously, in future we will improve and find ways around this when our force grows in number, but as of right now, I am a necessity to Heaven and the void. I need you to be, also.  
 You have every right to be angry, and vow not to lead by my example on the one occasion I had no other choice, but actively pushing me away will get us nowhere. Step into the role the world requires of you.'

Taekwoon opts for a strategic silence.  
  
'It is no fault of your own, this is a difficult stage, but you must keep hold of your mind. These emotions will pass. And there is a lesson to be learned from this mission.'  
  
Taekwoon doesn't interrupt, keeping up with his silence.  
  
'That as dark, as potentially dangerous a sacrifice as we had to make in getting here, we succeeded, Taekwoon. Not everyone is as lucky as us, not everyone holds as much power and knowledge as I -- an Archangel, and you, a fraction of an Archangel, much stronger make than your peers. We are not everyone. And unfortunately, everyone, includes our own realm. Even those with as much power and knowledge as us, cannot actively pull off what we did, especially if they had not planned it to the minute detail, kept check on its every development, like I had, like you subconsciously found your way moving towards. Had they not been on our end of the spectrum, a Dark Alignment.'  
  
There's a pause.  
  
'Had it not been destined.'  
  
Taekwoon listens, intently, still not breaking his silence.  
  
'For this mission, I am to allow you control. We are merged and my voice shall soon combine with your own, as will you will have my title, but I am not to guide you to these answers, you must prove that you are capable of finding them yourself, without my input. You have guided this corporeal form much longer than I, and that is a fact that will persist, regardless of however many years pass from now, and as this is your first mission, it is only fair you take the reigns. There is something I can say, to lead you into the right direction, however.'  
  
"What is that, then?"

'When God decided to expand territories, expand from astral to physical, forging the human race and all that would come of it, God did not realize the extent of the enormous move that was being made. God did not realize that requesting the assistance of the astral realm, the beings that inhabit it, that many would become collateral damage, that many would fall into these exact atmospheres he was forging, alone and entirely unprepared. God sees his creations, as such, as equal. He sees them as infinite. He does not realize the limitations we have in comparison to himself, even us from astral realms.  
So I want you to envision it, what this would do to a soul of astral make. To be trapped in an atmosphere you know is not your intended, but because you are so frazzled from the shift, you cannot call to mind your previous existence, you just feel flickers of it, every so often, a calling. You are forced to live out an existence that does not feel right, that does not sit right, you may encounter fragments of your previous existence, you may uncover some abilities that accompanied you, though you have had it drilled into you, since your so called conception that these abilities, the peculiar moments, are simply a trick of the mind.  
After a time you may accept your circumstances; many are comfortable with their new realm, they have adjusted, but not those that have, and will continue to have, a destined calling.  
What happens when the abilities do not disappear, simply strengthen? Usually in direct exchange with their human sanity.  
I must remind you, that we succeeded, Taekwoon. In doing so, we caused damage of this caliber.' Azrael pauses. 'To one of our brothers. Here, I leave you. Fix our first mistake, right our wrong.'

 

   
"Jinah," Jinki say, as gently as he possibly can. "I know you've rationalized this in your mind, probably to the nth degree, and given your situation and the denial you're experiencing, you'd do anything for this to be true. But to act like what you're saying is plausible in any form... it would be a lie. And that's not fair on you. I have to present to you my unbiased opinion, I have to stop feeding these delusions. You're not two different people. You're a singular being that experienced a very traumatic event prior to knowing me. I believe that event occurred on September 12."  
  
"But if so, why am I afraid of getting older? If like you say, this happened when I was younger... why would I be afraid of getting older? Isn't every new day a day away from that particular moment in time?"  
  
Jinki runs a hand through his hair, letting that same hand flop to his side before starting, "People with your condition can feel like they're living on borrowed time, and most certainly like their life is going to be cut short. It's entirely natural."  
  
"Fair enough," she says, though her tone appears to sour a fraction. "But why 24 exactly? It's not getting older I fear, it's the age 24. Any day before or later is perfectly okay. B-but not 24. Why is that?"  
  
"Perhaps you were repeatedly told by the perpetrator that they would locate you once again at age 24. Perhaps that was their age at the time, there are a multitude of different reasons as to why you fear the age of 24 so significantly."  
  
"I think you're wrong," she says.  
  
"Jinah..."  
  
"I think you know that you're wrong," she continues. "That this is _your_ way of rationalizing it because you're unwilling to accept that it could be anything else. The same anything I've been trying to tell you about for so long, the same anything I still have missing pieces I need to locate. But you're unwilling to help with that, too!"  
  
"Jinah, every day I sit here with you and I go along with this, sometimes consciously, sometimes passively. Either way, I shouldn't do that. It's not fair for you, and it's not making it any better for you. Nana is... she's a coping mechanism, Jinah. She's the young girl you couldn't save from the atrocity you faced, so you immortalize and try to preserve her in the only way you know how. By trying to bring her back. It's not a conscious effort, she's a way for you to cope. But the girl you once were, she's grown up now, Jinah. I know it doesn't always feel that way, and I know that saying this is one of the worst things I can possibly do, I know I should be playing into it, I know I should ask you if you want to color or if you want to go back on the swings, until you're ready to come back to being present day Jinah but... it's two days away from your 24th birthday and for as long as I can remember, that day has meant death to you. I can't have you thinking you're going to die in two days. I have to snap you awake somehow."  
  
"...You won't save me, then?" He notes how her words come out entirely numb. "Like you save everyone else?"  
  
"Jinah... please. Please listen to me, I'm trying to explain in the best way I can, I--"  
  
"Why am I extempt from that, Jinki? Have I done something so bad that I... I deserve to die in two days?"  
  
"That's the thing though, Jinah! You're _not_ going to die in two days. You just have to let yourself see that, live through these next two days and _see_ that you survive. That Nana isn't necessary any more. That you can let her go."  
  
Jinah turns away as if the words are going straight through her, her gaze fixated onto a table a few meters away. "What's this?" She asks.  
  
Jinki stares at the opened envelope, biting his lip. "Jinah, don't--"  
  
But it's too late. She picks it up, eyeing the delicate scrawl on the front, before taking the letter out, eyes scanning over the paper, freezing at the bottom. "Jieun...?" She twiddles with her thumb, tone deceptively neutral, as she meets Jinki's gaze. "Who's Jieun, Jinki?"

 

"Is there a particular reason we're still in the void?" Taekwoon asks, taking a scope of his seemingly endless surroundings.  
  
He receives no reply from Azrael.  
  
"Do I need to investigate? Is there something I have to collect here before proceeding?"  
  
The silence persists.  
  
"If not, how do I get out? How do I even get into the earth's atmosphere from here?"  
  
Taekwoon lets out a low, disbelieving chuckle. "Are you seriously telling me that the one time I _want_ you to talk, you're going to shut up? ...Amazing."  
  
But it's in that precise moment he stumbles upon a faint outline, a staircase. Taekwoon runs his hand down the patch closest to him, noting that he can't feel a thing, but is certainly seeing an outline. Deciding he has no other option than to test it, he begins to descend.

 

"Jieun is..." He pauses. "Jieun is a friend."  
  
Jinah takes a seat, holding onto the letter tightly. "Then why have you never mentioned her? Why keep a friend hidden? What kind of friend writes in a tone this romantic?"  
  
Jinki quietens. She was always well spoken, but he'd never noted any romantic undertones.   
  
"You don't have to lie to me," she says softly. "I knew I wasn't wrong, in thinking you'd lost interest in me like that. To put it simply, it's not like it's new knowledge. I just never said anything because I... I thought I could fix it." She places the letter onto her lap, intertwining her fingers. "Obviously I can't."  
  
"Jinah..."  
  
"You don't hold me anymore," she continues. "You haven't for a long time."  
  
"Jinah, a vast fraction of your life is spent with you believing you've reverted to the age of 12 or 7. You can't expect that not to affect me, to affect us. The older I get, the older we both get, the younger you seem to feel, and that's no way to carry out a relationship. You can't expect me to be both a parent figure and a..."  
  
"Fiance?" She laughs, but the sound lacks vigor. "Funny word that, isn't it? No visitor or friend we have is even aware, so there's no need to fret about the best way of telling them the wedding won't continue. E-especially not Jieun."  
  
Jinah places the letter to the left of her, shuffling in her seat. "How long has this been going on for?"  
  
"I--" Jinki takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "It's not what you think, I swear it's not."  
  
"I'm just wondering where you met, considering we can't recall ever leaving this city, for as long as we've been in it. The only time we're not together is when you're at the hospital, so probably there."  
  
But she pauses here, blinking at Jinki, almost as if she's experiencing an epiphany. "But if not... and it's truly like you say, then maybe this Jieun person is involved with our situation. O-or could be. If it's like you say, and she's not your secret lover, yet you feel you must keep her secret from the rest of the inhabitants of this city, particularly me..." She stops here for confirmation, and whilst Jinki doesn't know what she's grasping onto, she seems to receive it. "She must not be from here, meaning she found a way in, and if she knows a way in, she knows a way to leave and knows what it's like elsewhere. If we bring her here... perhaps she could help in holding off death?"  
  
Jinki comes to a direct halt, shaking his head. "Jinah... maybe you should go rest. If you truly believe in what you're saying, I'll have to accept that I know, but to try and involve people that have nothing to do with--"  
  
"No, but wait," she says insistently. "Think about it! We have never left this city, we have never attempted to. Something always stops us, before we even attempt to try. But not Jieun, seeing as she's not from here and arrived here. She can see what's different, describe it to us. We live here, but what do we actually know about our circumstances? There's so much we can't recall. People always say that you and I are more advanced in terms of our knowledge than those around us, that we know things they're still figuring out and I always wondered how that was... but now it makes sense. If like you say Jieun is not..."  
  
"Not...?"  
  
"Your secret lover."  
  
"She's not."  
  
"Then she's giving you information, isn't she?"  
  
Jinki stills, eyes widening. "Y-yes," he says, clearing his throat. "I know it may upset you, especially if it seems I'm sneaking around in the shadows and have kept it from you for this long, but I couldn't sit back and doing nothing knowing you were suffering, I had to help you... but I'm not... I'm a doctor, I heal physical illness, I never knew how to heal ills of the mind. But Jieun, she has this knowledge... she knows how to help. I... I learn from her, Jinah. That's all it is."  
  
"But not just me, I mean!" She glances around the room as if in awe, as if all her prior questions had bee answered. "I think she's from the future, Jinki. I think she knows how to save us. All of us."  
  
"Wait, Jinah... I didn't mean..." He falls back against his seat, chewing at his lip, but Jinah's convinced.  
  
She smiles over at him, hope twinkling in her eyes. "Please invite her over."

Realizing his words weren't getting through, and certainly wouldn't be any time soon, Jinki suppressed a sigh.   
  
He really felt like he was running out of options. To passively play along like he had been doing was actively encouraging her, and certainly not helping her get better any, but an abrupt change in his behavior with regards to her -- a flat out denial, abruptly shaking her back to reality and acting the way 'everyone' else did, as she'd so sourly refer to it, when he'd only gotten this far because he didn't act that way, could be such a shock that it could make her decide she's going to run away; in the form of her running out onto the street and potentially getting hit by an oncoming vehicle, wander off into the woods, which could result in kidnap.   
  
Much as the guilt would gnaw through his being to passively play along like he had been doing every other time Jinah got into this state, it would only need to be for two more days. Two more days until she could see for herself that she'd make it to 24, that she live on. That she'd survive.   
  
Nothing bad would happen on her 24th birthday.  
  
He was sure of it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me searching for a shinedown song: accidentally writes "shineedown" rip, but this song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvZGyusjlAM is !!


	7. Section One: Heaven prologue (Anna)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBfb3IFhu9o

**Section One:  
Heaven.**

**Oneirophrenia --** _A hallucinatory (dream-like) state that is caused by such conditions as prolonged sleep deprivation, sensory isolation, or drug use._

 

Within seconds a misty fog has begun to spread around the entirety of the surroundings, coating it in a blanket-like sheen, leaving nothing in its wake. The fog is so thick that had she been a mortal being, it would have left her vision clouded, nearing on blinded, momentarily. If she was a mortal being -- precisely human -- she would've been left unable to see, unable to manoeuvre around her dreary and undecipherable surroundings.

A mortal being, she isn't.  
  
She's standing as still as a statue, posture perfect, eyes unblinking. Certain she's never been here, as she's never willingly put herself in such a dangerous position before. She isn't one to break the rules, having had them ingrained so deeply into her mechanism for as long as she's been there. Having had them repeated day in, day out by numerous authoritative figures.  
  
Figures she's been told she has to respect and obey the requests of, so long as said request does not conflict with faction or mentoring Archangel, who gets final judgement on the situation.  
  
As far as she is aware right now, no one of higher authority is around. In the state of undecipherable nothingness she's currently witnessing, it's only her. Wherever and whatever this state she's slipped into is, she is inconceivably alone, unreachable. By all accounts, this state of being -- of surrounding -- that she's slipped into, her kind doesn't need it, never needs to visit it.  
  
Not like mortal beings do, anyway.  
  
In actual fact, whilst this state of being is an instinctual need within the mortal kind, with her kind it has the adverse effect, and can lead to some of the most dangerous pastures known to her kind.  
  
Leaving a dangerous, and in some cases, deadly effect.  
  
Which is why they're advised to avoid it at all costs.  
  
A rule -- or warning -- she'd willingly followed thus far. A rule she'd never questioned. A rule she isn't questioning still, even though she's evidently broken said rule already, by accounts she can't recall.  
  
Within the split second it takes to look back out at her undecipherable surroundings, they change. The misty fog morphs into a thick swirling blackness that appears to be never ending. It's zooming in on her, trying to grasp hold of her limbs to pull her closer, even deeper into the vast nothingness. Every time she tries to pull away, detecting threat, it gets stronger. It pulls closer. Tries even harder to drag her in and wrap itself around her. To strangle her.  
  
So she stops struggling entirely.  
  
Like last time she stands as still as a statue, not struggling, not fighting back. It doesn't seem to be lessening, which is when she realizes this new patch of surroundings is even more dangerous than the last. That whatever she's doing, wherever she is... she's leaping into dark, dangerous territory. Territory that knows she's there, and wants to harm her.  
  
Danger that sees her, senses her. Locates her. Targets her.  
  
Something flickers in the depths of her mind and she decides to close her eyes. It seems her only options are to follow the trail, to linger on behind the swirl of nothingness and follow wherever it takes her -- to give in -- or to blank it out, push it away, to fight back.  
  
To say no.  
  
She's been taught that she has to follow orders given to her, as anything her authority figures speak of is said in her best interest, never will they use their position of power over those under them for manipulative purposes, and it is not to say she's ever questioned that, but their guidance rings true for the realm she's currently inhabiting. Sleeping is nothing but a threat, and curiosity in such case could have her form obliterated, by means outside of her higher ups. And entering the dream world?  
  
None know the consequences. Or live to tell them.  
  
Individual wants are to be resisted, for the betterment of their force and themselves. Any individual wants, along with queries and curiosities outside of Heavenly endeavors can manifest, as is only natural, they say, and she has been warned as such.  
  
However, it is recommended that such wants, queries and curiosities are to be pushed to the very depths of their minds and to be forgotten. To lock them away and deem them as nuisance, the darker they become, as treacherous. That any form of thought of query that deviates from what authority has deemed appropriate as a teaching, is mere temptation that must be thwarted and destroyed at all costs.  
  
It has been said that Angels can go astray, that they can fall. Worse, pledge themselves to the force of evil.  
  
Freewill is an illusion for their kind. Accessible for mortal kind, deadly for immortal kind. It is not worth the risk.  
  
Her being here is a result of treachery to her teachings, there is no other explanation. Though she does not recall freewill coming into play, nor a curiosity to experience what it is like to sleep, so questions how she has ended up here, she knows she must get back and seek guidance. Admit her wrongdoings and serve her allocated sentence.  
  
So she does what she's been taught to do. Listen to orders and push away anything that wishes to infringe upon that. The reason why she's here, she's not even sure any more.  
  
She remembers flickers of a conversation that previous night-- perhaps what could have even been an argument. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to react, she wasn't used to high displays of raw anger. Just controlled, strategically placed anger. Used to get a point across. To show her she'd made a mistake. To correct the aforementioned mistake and make sure it didn't take place again.  
  
Emotions don't come naturally to her or her kind, they are stunted, they are suppressed. There was a time it wasn't like this, but that has now passed. Heaven cannot repeat it, because it encourages loss, and any loss would be detrimental.  
  
Heaven is a stronger, more prosperous force with the suppression and nullification of emotions.  
  
Before she knows it, there's something scratching at her skin, seconds away from splintering through. She glances up and notes, in clearer view, that it's a tree branch. The tree it belongs to however, is out of view, foggy.  
  
She intends to stay as still as possible, trying to apply what was successful for her not long ago. But that's when everything appears to blur into everything else and she swears she's almost tipped over. Images begin to blur and flash in front of her eyes rapidly. There are so many.  
  
So, so many.  
  
They don't stay long, merely three seconds exactly before flickering onto the next. And it gets to a point that even as a present day Angel, lacking in emotions and reactions, is almost trembling.  
  
There's a tree branch, the same tree branch from before just magnified. Sharper. Much less concrete, much more flexible. It bends and twists into the most obscure of angles and positions and yet, it does not snap.  
  
Frail, fragmented bones follow, they're limp. Floppy.  
  
A gauze is wrapped around them and there's no skin. She can't make out the being they belong to, there's no possible way to identify them.  
They suddenly disappear.  
  
A sand glass is next. Time seems to slow somewhat when it appears. Sand is slowly falling to the other end and it stays like this for some time, before it begins to effortlessly slide through to the bottom of the object at a much quicker pace. Too quick a pace.  
  
Signifying that she has a time limit. Or had, for it started off slow, disappearing all too quickly. Or almost running out all too quickly, as it did not fully reach that point before it disappeared well out of her grasp.  
  
Before she has chance to figure out what the time limit is for, there's a hand reaching out to her. It aparates elsewhere within a second. She almost shivers from the breeze it leaves behind but it should not be possible because Angels are entirely indifferent to changes in temperature.  
  
A sharp sound is heard, ringing in her ears. It's intrusive, blaring loud.  
  
The only thing she can link it to from experience is the ear splitting sound of a large horn. She doesn't know where this sudden familiarity of the sound is from nor does she understand the ability she's suddenly developed to be able to link it to something else.  
  
It disappears, just like the rest.  
  
What comes next leaves confusion seeping through her being. It's a silhouette of a person she swears she's seen before. Someone who seems all too familiar--even in her Angel form--yet someone she, for the life of her, cannot seem to recall. To name.  
  
She moves but an inch closer, believing she may be able to place face to name that way, when the person apparates in an instant, fragmenting. Whirling tornado-like winds take this person's place, whipping against the skin of her cheeks. A hundred crows with eyes plucked line themselves up against whirling winds, somehow not being pulled back, vacuumed in.

They're edging closer as the whirling winds transform into harsh, thrashing water. It becomes evident that they're trying to drown her. She thrashes, she's detecting threat, she's in danger.  
  
The tree branch from before appears once more and she quickly grabs onto it, feeling she has no other choice. She climbs to the end of the tree branch, almost letting out a sigh of relief, but resisting because things like that were unheard of in her realm. Angels didn't sigh for relief. At least not any more.  
  
With one last step towards the edge of the branch, that's where it ends.

It's fragmented and she's trying to piece it all together. To make sense of the chain of events and the order in which they took place, but she has no time because it's in that exact moment when she shakes herself awake with a start, realizing in retrospect that there really is a reason they're advised to not allow themselves to fall asleep. Unlike in others, it's not a primal, functioning need. It's optional, unusual, and definitely ill-advised.

Before interacting with the mortal human kind, or so she's heard, sleep was completely unheard of for Angels. The ability to mock a sleep like state was learned many years ago, in hopes to help their kind fit in with the finite, mortal beings. But it wasn't actual sleep. It was mere pretense.

Angels weren't supposed to sleep, and interacting with humanity did not alter that.

Most had only heard tales of what Angels went through if they actually allowed themselves to doze off, to sleep. Gruesome, in depth tales used mostly to scare them away from sleeping. Tales of the after effects. How sleep would leave debilitating effects on their mental states, that the longer they stay in this unconscious state, the closer they get to the unknown. The unreachable. The end.

No one had ever spoken of the dream world, which Anna was sure she had just experienced.

Thankfully Anna hadn't been asleep for too long at all, and cannot recall much--nor make any logical sense--of what she saw, so only feels a little shaken up. But she realizes that she is going to become a part of the same statistic who knows first hand why sleeping is ill-advised for their kind.

Sitting up, she glances around the room of her 'house'. Small but not confined; the room is pure white. If viewed from the inside and outside it appears to be completely concrete, tangible and compact. When viewed overhead it is much spacier, wider and appears transparent. Overhead views show that it is not bound by any laws, rules or limitations that stunt the and thrive in the human world. In such case that there's nothing to be seen in direct line of vision. Nothing in peripheral vision, either. Endless waves of emptiness, vast bodies of unending space.

From the inside, there are tangible objects in the line of her vision. Entirely simplistic, and very few, but they are visible. A small table, for instance. A staircase. Doors that lead to each of her two rooms on the first floor. One for living space, the other a kitchen. Angels do not need to eat, also a practice that is entirely optional, but unlike sleep, it does not harm them. For that reason it is a much more common practice among their kind.

There's a window further along, even further along and one would reach her door, which leads on to the outside, to the street where the rest of her alignment team resides.

They are a small group in numbers, the smallest of the four alignments. There are only four members to her alignment as of present, Anna is unsure if that is due to how selective her mentors are, or if it is an Alignment that has a low successful transition rate.

It is a Dark alignment, with very specific requirements to pass before initiation. She and her fellow member were guided to this alignment, rather than arrive in their masses and pass an alignment test that way. That is unheard of in present day Heaven, Mentors do not guide their alignment members to Heaven any more, the members arrive to them, then train to see who they best fit with.

  
To each alignment group there is a mentor Archangel and their female counterpart, ruling of their respective council.

Along with the mentor Archangel and direct counterpart, other alignment teams have a handful of regular non-hierarchical angels that line underneath said team's main alignment.

Whereas with Anna's, there are only two.

Herself and her friend -- if angels were allowed to have friends -- Soojung.

Glancing out of the window, allowing herself to drink in her surroundings. It's a long, mostly empty street -- with the exception of two houses -- in which one withered and bare tree stands tall. Her small house is directly next to another house the same size, in which Soojung inhabits. There's a dust road on the outside view, which leads up to two other houses, where the authority figures of the alignment reside.

 

A light rasp is heard at the front door, and Anna moves towards it knowingly. Just as she's predicting, the person she's greeted with when she creaks open the door is none other than Soojung.

"Anna," The slightly shorter brunette girl says, bowing her head lightly. "May I come in?"

Anna nods at the brunette, mirroring the heading bowing movement. She moves to open the door a little wider, allowing the brunette to slide her way inside.

"You know," Soojung whispers once the door clicks closed. "When we are not around the rest, when it is just us, we are allowed drop the formalities. They will not have to know."

Anna only blinks, not seeming to be comprehending what the brunette angel is getting at.

Soojung twiddles with her thumbs, seeming a little perturbed at Anna's lack of response. Though it's not entirely visible as exaggerated expressions and emotions from celestial beings are the rarest of the rare, making the deciphering of their emotions that much more difficult. "I-I mean," she clears her throat. "Only if you would like to."  
"What are you trying to say?" Anna asks, entirely expressionless. She has turned to face Soojung directly, awaiting the brunette angel's response.  
Soojung can't seem to meet Anna's eyes. "I would like to ask if you, at this point, consider us to be... friends?"

Soojung's words linger in the air for some time before Anna replies. "Friends?" She says the word as if she's tasting it, as if the meaning of it is entirely foreign to her.

Soojung nods a little wearily, her usually stoic outer shell slightly faltering. "I cannot rely on many people, I realize there are individuals that inhabit this place with many unstated ulterior motives, ones who are willing to back stab and sell their peers out just for recognition from their authority figures. I have come to the realization that with us that is not the case, and I do believe I am very lucky in this finding. I trust you, Anna. I would like to be your friend."

Anna wants to tell her that she does consider Soojung to be a 'friend', though she's a little unsure of meaning of the word, and would consider Soojung to be her closest most trusted confidant, but then remembers that their kind--though a slightly newer rule--are not allowed to have friends. "We are not allowed to have friends, Soojung."

"Of course," Soojung says, hoping the disappointment doesn't seep through to her tone. She already knows they're not allowed friends, and even that new-age angels are bred to be competitive with one another even when under the same alignment. But she genuinely believes that their alignment is different, especially with the times in which they transitioned and the fact that heaven was an entirely different place back then. "Then please forget I said anything."

"Perhaps I can make an exception," Anna says as if in deep contemplation. "If we kept this pact on the down low, away from everyone else's eyes."

Soojung begins to tap her foot in an seemingly anxious manner. "I am not sure if I will be able to hold my end of the bargain if that is the case, Anna. I feel very protective of you and with the way everyone else treats you... I am afraid I cannot stand back and watch on helplessly. If it means putting myself in the line of fire also, if it means standing up to higher ups, I do not mind. If we go down Anna, I promise that we will go down together."

Anna hums. "You are beginning to sound like..."

"Taemin?" The brunette's nose crinkles almost none detectably. "That is not my intention, I apologize." She wants to elaborate a little further but can't seem to form the words so that they will make sense. Concisely.

Anna only nods. "Please do not do anything drastic." She doesn't need to elaborate either, Soojung knows exactly what she's getting at and the other individual she's referring to when she refers to drastic. "It is not necessary."

"But if--"

"If we are friends, Soojung, there is no need. You must realize--like you do with myself--I care about your well being also. You do not need to throw yourself into the line of fire just to prove a point. I respect you and, like you, I consider you my friend also. That is enough, Soojung. You do not need to cause yourself unnecessary harm, just to help me. Which in all aspects, may only prove to backfire, for a reason you are already well aware of."

Soojung lets out a sharp sigh. "You are right," she seems to wince as the words leave her lips, but it's not something Anna's attuned to. It's not something Anna's been trained to detect, nor react to. "He would then have more leverage to use against you, probably even wrongly reaching the conclusion that there is something that is gravely wrong within your mechanism, which has resulted in everyone you interact with becoming willing to stand against higher ups in defense of you. Something the rest of our kind would not dream of. The fact that one of the two is not our kind will only work miraculously for his plans, in this situation. I am sure he will--wrongly-- be able to link this with a dark power of sorts, since Taemin is a demon. In such, then believe you to be a traitor. Which could then result in the reboot and in the worst case scenario-- the discarding of your entire existence, which would clearly have adverse effects on many of us. Our mentors, myself, and obviously Taemin. He will probably have not thought this through fully, nor the drastic chain of events that will follow in this instance."

Anna feels relieved that they are on the same page once again. She then appears to blink. Then shiver, but the movement is barely detectable.  
  
"I cannot believe this would all come from the mere fact that you have two individuals whom are not your authority figures that are willing to stand up for you against his tyrannical methods and rules. He has a whole realm, or near enough. Nobody bats an eyelid at that."

"I believe there is more than that," Anna whispers, through does not elaborate.

When Soojung looks back at her long haired blonde friend, she notes that there is a seemingly frozen look in her light eyes.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

The frozen look in Anna's eyes seems to instantly dissipate. "Yes," she says clearly, confidently.

Soojung nods, getting a hunch that it is not the case at all but not wanting to prod any further for lack of knowledge of what to do in this situation. She twiddles with her thumbs before asking, "Shall I make us tea?"

Anna nods.

 

"Anna?" The shorter brunette asks, as she moves back into the room, balancing two tea cups on a plate. "Are you sure you are okay?" Is what she asks as the pair sit down.

Anna doesn't want to give anything away. "Why ever would I not be?"

Soojung tilts her head to the side slightly, observing her blonde friend. "Something has happened," she states. "With you."

Anna scoots away from Soojung, trying very hard not to make her movement and aversion of the subject noticeable. "Nothing has happened."

Soojung's eyes widen in that moment and Anna feels herself slightly shrinking away once more, knowing the elder has linked the happenings together. Neither of their movements are exaggerated as their kind cannot exaggerate. Neither should really pick up on the other's movement, but they do.

"You fell asleep," Soojung states after some time. Anna watches as the older girl shivers. "You did, did you not?"

"How are you... aware?"

Soojung takes a sip of her tea. "For some reason I am able to recognize the tormented expression on your features, and with the way you have been behaving since I came in this morning... everything points towards it. Your lack of awareness of your surroundings, you seem to be in daze. Like I said before there is this haunted look in your eyes that is so present it has overtaken your usual neutral expression. I am no expert, but I can note the difference. I was going to bring it up earlier, but I am unsure of how to breech such a topic. We have had no training of sorts for such an instance."

Anna is now sitting tall, aware of her surroundings. Something Soojung is right about, she hasn't been taking into account since waking up. She nods at everything Soojung is saying, knowing the slightly elder angel is trying to figure out a way to comfort her. But just like she said, has no knowledge or training of how. Neither of them do.

"If I may ask, Anna..."

"Yes?"

"What did you see?"

"Soojung," Anna whispers. "I--"

Soojung scoots a little closer to Anna. "Can you tell me?" Her tone of voice doesn't spike in pitch and there's nothing giving her excitement away other than her sheer focus on both Anna and the topic at hand. Anna notices the focus but isn't sure of what to link it with. Was this curiosity, or just how their faction worked? They were deemed the scientists of Heaven, after all. "Was there more? More than we have been led to believe?"

Soojung stops to take a breath, awaiting Anna's answer. She doesn't want to ask too many questions at once, knowing it can be confusing and her original question could easily be lost in the slew of questions.

Anna sits still, contemplating. She blinks, but the movement goes undetected. "I cannot recall much, Soojung, but I..."

"You?"

"I." Anna appears to wince. "I feel... different. I did not believe I had been affected too much in the beginning, but as time progresses I... believe something is not right."

Rather than branch further into the turn the conversation is taking, for lack of better knowledge, Soojung steers it elsewhere. She's not sure of what she's supposed to say to Anna, nor how she's supposed to comfort Anna. If it even is comfort that Anna is seeking. It's times like these that Soojung finds she'd actually -- contrary to what she's always saying -- find a certain aforementioned individual's presence and ability to see through to hidden meanings and be able to deduce lies and half truths very useful. To be able to know what she's doing in such a situation. To be able to comfort Anna. But she doesn't, so she asks instead, "Why did you fall asleep, if I may ask?" She believes it's better for her to have something to go with, before coming to an empty, none thought out conclusion. Something she would never want to do in general, but even more so when Anna is involved.

Anna glances emptily at Soojung. "I cannot recall."

"Can you recall anything from before the falling asleep incident took place--anything leading up to it? Anything that triggered an influx of forbidden thoughts?" Soojung pauses. "Was anyone else with you before you... fell asleep, can you recall?"

Anna shakes her head. "There is... nothing. I do not remember thinking anything forbidden and certainly not acting on it, but I cannot say for certain because I cannot recall anything from this past day. Somehow I was just... there. Completely unaware of everything else other than..." Anna shivers slightly. "That state. I do not know how it happened or how I got there. Ever since then I have been in this perpetual state of... confusion. In fact, recalling back to when I was in that state, I still felt this seemingly none ending bout of confusion seep through my being."

Soojung takes a deep breath, Anna's words only proving to solidify her reasoning. "I think I may have a fair guess as to why it took place."

Anna blinks. "You do?"

"Though I am not certain of my theory entirely as at this point it will appear to only be mere speculation. But from your lack of recollection one instance I am certain of is that you did not willingly place yourself into this state and it is not an act of rebellion. I am under the impression that a second party was involved."

Anna nods. "That would make sense, yes."

"However, Anna..."

"Yes?"

"In the case that a second party was involved, and in the case that we are not sure of who this second party was... that opens the doors to the a multitude of possibilities. And in such, we will need to contact Archangel Taekwoon. I am certain he will know more about this matter than I, I am certain he will know what to do. That he will be able to draw to a concise, correct conclusion."

Anna freezes at the mention of bringing in their mentors. Thus far she's never broken a rule, and though a specific individual seems to find fault with everything she does, she's never disappointed her mentor, willingly, by her own hands. And in her position, as a Destined one, disappointing her mentor is even more inexcusable. Even if their current dynamic does not mirror that of a Destined angel and mentoring Archangel, Anna does not believe she is in the position to pull such a stint. What if it -- contrary to Soojung's belief -- it does turn out she that she did have forbidden thoughts that night and willingly put herself in the position of allowing herself to fall asleep? How can Soojung back her up then? How will any of them be able to look her in the eye any longer?

Will she be banished?

Imprisoned?

Only time would tell.

"Which as I am sure you are well aware, could in turn lead to investigation outside of our unit if not handled quietly and concisely. So we must keep on the down low about this, correct?"

Anna nods.

"Which unless in the case that Archangel Taekwoon personally requests outside assistance, will not take place. But if that instance does take place, and Archangel Taekwoon does request outside assistance and he is the one who takes the call, do not worry. I will protect you."

"That will not--"

"That is necessary, actually." Soojung moves closer. "He has caused enough trouble to you and our unit in general. I do not understand why he cannot just stick to his own affairs. Why he must stick his nose into other's also. Ours in particular. Even if he considers himself the overseer of all events, that role was not appointed to him. He has his own faction to lead, we are doing fine on our own."

Anna's head bows slightly. "I deserve it," she says. "There is always a reason. Archangel Ho--"

"Anna if you could only hear yourself--"

"I can hear myself, Soojung."

Soojung only sighs, knowing she's fighting a losing battle when bringing these things up to Anna. It's been too deeply ingrained. She wonders how Taemin's been able to repeat the same thing to Anna day in and day out for so long without so much as questioning the concept of giving up. It takes Soojung minutes to realize that no matter what she tries, Anna won't agree. Anna can't agree. It's been too deeply ingrained for too long a time. She decides that Taemin must be running on blind faith, but then nearly scoffs, as he's a demon. Faith is something demons are incapable of possessing, is it not? "Shall we pay a visit to Archangel Taekwoon now, or should we wait a while?"

"We should go now," Anna says a little reluctantly.

 

After opening the front door and making their way outside, Soojung and Anna begin the trek along the dusty road. They continue until they're directly in front of the two houses in which their higher ups inhabit. The houses are aligned directly next to each other, in a meticulously straight line.

They walk past the door of the house closest to them, their focus directed solely on the other house. The house in which their mentoring Archangel inhabits.

Soojung is the one who intends to knock. Anna busies herself by straightening her posture and her attire. After she does this she begins twiddling with her thumbs.

Soojung notices, and rather than knock she turns to face Anna. "Are you okay?"

Anna nods.

"Please do not be nervous, Anna. I promise you that Archangel Taekwoon will not blame you once we explain what has happened."

"Maybe not blame me," Anna says, biting nervously on her lip. "But be disappointed in me? Either way, we cannot deny the possibility of that being an outcome."

Soojung sends Anna a slight confused look. "Either way?"

"In the instance that it was I who allowed myself to fall asleep. In the instance that I broke the rules."

"Anna..."

"What?"

"It was not you. There was a second party."

"How can you be certain?"

"Because I know you would not do that. It makes no logical sense, there is no reasoning behind it. Trust me on that. Trust me on this. Archangel Taekwoon will understand. He will not blame you and he will not be disappointed in you for something you could not have helped."

"But I--"

"I understand you must be feeling nervous and perhaps even guilty at the thought of letting him down. I understand that it goes beyond Archangel Taekwoon being your mentor and the natural guilt an aligned angel would feel if the possibility of letting down their mentor arose. I am not a Destined one, so I will never understand how much greater this guilt becomes when magnified by your dynamic..."

Soojung stops and takes the time to glance at Anna, who appears to be a lot more demure than previously. "Is something troubling you, Anna?"

"He..." She glances down at her feet, and for the first time since Soojung has known her, she witnesses a slight crack in Anna's stoic outer shell. "He already dislikes me. The disappointment that this will lead to will only prove to be the icing on the cake."

"Whatever gave you the impression that he dislikes you, Anna?"

"It is obvious, Soojung. Have you not noticed?" Anna sighs. "He probably agrees with Archangel Hongbin after all, which is only further evidenced by how--"

"No," Soojung says instantly. "Please do not even begin to entertain that thought, Anna. It is not true."

"But--"

Soojung merely shakes her head. She then wastes no seconds as she raises her fist and taps against the door.

 

A few seconds pass before the door opens and the tall, dark haired Archangel who is impeccably dressed in his corresponding colors of black, silver and metallic blue appears. He seems to be mildly surprised at the unscheduled appearance of Soojung and Anna.

"Good morning," he greets, the words sounding like they're a question, evidently perplexed. "Is there something you are in need of?"

Anna's glancing at her feet, still in the midst of twiddling with her thumbs. She doesn't glance up but she can hear Soojung's voice loud and clear, as if it's a pin that has dropped in an entirely empty room, echoing for all ears to hear. Fact of the matter is there's only three pairs of ears hearing the words, but this fact in itself does nothing to reassure Anna. In fact, it makes her feel even more nervous--and ashamed--as one of those specific individuals happens to be Archangel Taekwoon, her mentor and her Destined Archangel. The one she apparently shares an unbreakable bond with -- the one Angel in the faction that guided herself to her mentor, rather than the mentor leading the Angel or choosing them from a group of potentials; she is presently the only Destined Angel in Heaven and it has been that way for some time, so belief in this Destined concept are now faltering and Anna, being the only one, faces the brunt of those souring views, most accusing her of preferential treatment -- and in the most dire of all situations would have to take over from, yet for as long as she's been there Archangel Taekwoon's behavior in regards to her does nothing but prove otherwise. Not that he so much lacks trust in her, but seems perturbed by her presence. 

"Good morning, sire," Soojung says, bowing. "We are here on the behalf of Anna."

Anna squeezes her eyes closed at Soojung's words, wanting to sink into the ground. Being here on the behalf of Anna implies that it's _Anna_ who decided to pay the visit, does it not? Which will then leave Archangel Taekwoon under the impression that Anna's the one who's going to be doing all of the talking. When in actual fact, that will be Soojung. Anna knows Soojung's not at fault and her only intentions are to help her, but she can't shake off the thought of how irresponsible she will seem to Taekwoon after supposedly planning the visit and having the brunette angel do all of the talking for her.

"There is no need to bow," Taekwoon says, tone sounding a tad softer. "Would you like to come in?"

Soojung nods politely, nudging Anna and making the blonde angel glance up.

"B-both of us, s-sire?"

Taekwoon tilts his head at her words, perplexed expression returning. He doesn't appear to be looking directly at Anna, however, and she isn't looking at him, so she doesn't pick up on it. "Of course," he replies curtly, still making a point not to make eye contact with the blonde angel. He then moves to the side to allow the two angels to make their way inside, directing them to sit down on the main seat in the room that mimics that of a living room.

It's an angelic tradition after greeting wholly, to also greet individually. Which is what Archangel Taekwoon proceeds to do next.

"Good morning, Soojung."

"Good morning, sire."

Taekwoon appears to shuffle away, hoping not to make it too obvious that he's avoiding eye contact with Anna. "Good morning Anna," he says a little evasively. Soojung watches on as Anna slightly winces, wishing she knew what to do to help her blonde friend.

"Good morning Archangel Taekwoon," Anna says as she bows her head. She then shuffles further down on the seat, avoiding looking up or around at her surroundings.

Taekwoon nods, a contemplative expression morphing onto his features. "So what is it that brings you both here?"

"Anna," Soojung says, but casts a glance at Anna. "Anna is what brings us here, sire. But, it is by my request entirely, which is why I will be doing the speaking."

Anna lets out a small sigh of relief, but tries her hardest not to draw individual attention to herself.

Taekwoon nods, but the perplexed expression still stands. "Okay," he finally says. "What is it?"

Anna makes sure not to look up, still twiddling her thumbs. Soojung clears her throat. "Please hear it all out, sire. There is an aspect that may surprise you."

Taekwoon nods at Soojung's words. "Please proceed."

Soojung casts a glance towards Anna, but her blonde friend is staring at the ground, twiddling with her thumbs absent mindedly. She wants to reach over and reassure her that everything will be okay but she does not want to startle the blonde angel, so instead keeps it on the down low and sends Anna a gentle look, something the younger doesn't notice whilst her head is down.

"Last night," Soojung begins, deciding to jump straight into the main point. "Anna fell asleep."

There's a silence.

It's not a comforting silence. It's tense, contemplative. Anna and Soojung sit in silence. Taekwoon sits in silence. For quite some time nobody dare interrupt this sound of silence.

"What?" He finally says, after prolonging the silence even more.

Soojung casts a surreptitious glance at Anna. "I said--"

"No," Taekwoon cuts her off tersely. "I heard what you said, Soojung." His eyes flicker with something as he looks over at Anna and as Soojung once again turns to look at Anna, she watches as the blonde angel flinches back slightly. "What I want to know is why."

Soojung's witnessed that expression far too often with Anna, unfortunately, though not in relation to Archangel Taekwoon. Something's flickering inside of Soojung and she soon realizes it's regret. She doesn't want Taekwoon to get angry, especially not in front of Anna and definitely not with regards to Anna. So that's the moment she decides she really has to clear things up to her mentor. To let him in on the second party and let him know that Anna didn't purposely rebel, go against his warnings. His teachings.

"Please let me finish before you draw to a conclusion on the matter," Soojung says, adopting a softer tone, not wanting to aggravate the situation further.

Taekwoon stalls and turns to look at her. Once he notes the seriousness in her appearance, he nods. "Of course." He walks over to a neighboring seat and sits down, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting. Listening.

Cooperating.

Anna sits quietly. Patiently waiting for her darker haired friend to begin.

Soojung takes a deep breath. "Sire, we believe there was a second party involved." She twiddles with her thumbs, momentarily looking away from Archangel Taekwoon. When she glances back, she continues, "As per usual, I paid a visit to Anna this morning via her room. Yet I noticed something different with her but did not voice it out until I had pieced all my suspicions together and come to the most logical conclusion. The expression on her face was entirely frozen and she was in this perpetual state of confusion that I have only witnessed on one other before. She wore the exact same expression of one who had fallen asleep. After questioning Anna to make sure I was on the right page, she confirmed that I was and that she had indeed fallen asleep. Yet, something still seemed amiss. Anna is not a type whom will recklessly rebel and in all of her time here she has never stepped a foot out of line. She had no reason nor expressed any curiosity towards sleeping--and definitely does not spend her days thinking thoughts that have presently been deemed forbidden. On top of this she cannot recall falling asleep, nor the events beforehand that led up to this sleeping. Our kind can recall past day events for each minute detail, perfectly, you know this. Anna was completely unable when I visited her. Which lets me draw to the conclusion that she was perhaps given something that forced this state of sleep upon her, as in, not by her own temptation or will. There was a second party involved. That I am sure. Please do not blame her for something that is not her fault. She had no say in this."

Taekwoon nods along to Soojung's words. "I felt something was amiss. That something did not add up. Thank you for explaining, Soojung." He turns to Anna. "I am not blaming you, Anna. I apologize if I ever gave you that impression."

Anna nods, but quickly bows her head, shuffling further away. She doesn't trust herself to speak, so simply shows her respect and understanding in actions.

Taekwoon taps his fingers on the marble of the table closest to him. "Are either of you aware of whom the second party was?"

Anna shakes her head, whereas Soojung looks contemplative, less sure of her answer.

"Possibly. I am not entirely certain," she says.

Taekwoon's eyes set focus onto the ground and he wears the same contemplative expression Soojung's currently wearing. "Taemin would be our most viable possibility, in any circumstance."

Soojung quirks an eyebrow. "You think so, too?"

"I presume so," The dark haired Archangel says. "If not Taemin, that leaves myself, you and Sooyeon as our other suspects. Something that is highly unlikely, nearing on the impossible. Backstabbing is not something that takes place under my alignment, I have not raised you to compete with one another. Any of you. To sabotage one of my own kind is the lowest form of low, and I trust you would not believe I would do such."

Anna glances up, her eyes flitting between Soojung and Archangel Taekwoon's faces. "T-Taemin?" She asks. "You believe Taemin is the one responsible for this?"

Taekwoon merely raises an eyebrow. "You think I am unaware as to the visits he pays you nightly?" 

Anna's eyes widen but she quickly shakes her head. Would Archangel Taekwoon hold her responsible for the demon boy's visits? It is not as though she allows him into Heaven, nor does she understand why he is so adamant about visiting her, about 'checking' on her. "Of course not, sire."

"Think of it this way," the dark haired Archangel says, moving the subject further on. "There is a demon who visits you every single night without fail. Hypothetically--or not so hypothetically with how often he visits and how quick he is to piece things together, it is entirely plausible. Let us say that he finds out what happens to Angels when they fall asleep, where it is they go, what it is they see. What humans refer to as dreams for us, is something entirely different. Then adding on to this is the fact that he holds a deeply ingrained grudge against our transitioning process and an even deeper grudge at the fact that you are unable to recall any of your previous human memories. That they have been erased, eradicated. That sets a firm foundation for him to slip or cast something upon you that forces you to fall asleep and see things you are not supposed to, without realizing the dangers. He may have thought he was doing a good thing, not realizing the consequences."

Everything Taekwoon's saying makes sense. In fact it makes perfect sense. But still... something's twinging inside of her, challenging the dark haired Archangel's statements. She decides she will voice this, rather than shrink back and agree mindlessly like she would with Archangel Hongbin. From what she's witnessed today Archangel Taekwoon is a lot more open to suggestions than the lighter haired Archangel tends to be. "But he..." She lets out a prolonged sigh. "He claims to be my friend. He never fails to remind me of such with every single visit he makes. Why would he willingly put me in such a dangerous position, after proclaiming so often that he is my friend? From what I know friends do not intentionally bring harm upon other friends."

Taekwoon processes what she's saying before replying. "Perhaps his original intentions were not malicious, but he does not know what it is he is playing with here. He possesses many reckless personality traits, especially when angered or frustrated. I am not one to point fingers without concrete evidence but what other plausible explanation is there in this specific case, Anna? Soojung did not do this. Sooyeon did not do this. I definitely did not do this. The only one left is... Taemin."

Anna chews on her lips and takes a deep breath to encourage herself she's doing the right thing by voicing her next words. "But," she begins. "What if--"

As if she's already aware of what Anna's going to say, Soojung's head snaps up, a hopeful glitter to her dark eyes. Like Taemin, she's waited so long for a day like this. For words she's sure are going to leave Anna's lips in the next few seconds.

Taekwoon also seems to be listening in intently. "What if what, Anna?" He asks, sounding partially amused but it's not something either angel picks up on.

Anna blinks, suddenly taking in where she is and what is currently taking place. Suddenly realizing the words she's about to say, the sentiment she's about to suggest. Surely even thinking something like that would get her into trouble. She decides against it. "Nothing." Anna shakes her head. "Never mind."

The hopeful glitter in Soojung's eyes steadily dissipates.

A few seconds of silence pass before Anna finds herself quite reluctantly nodding. It seems like the most logical explanation, but something--to her--still seems amiss. Albeit, she still finds herself saying. "Perhaps it was Taemin." Yet she once again cannot overthrow the the tug inside her that claims otherwise. That there's more to it. Much more to it.

Taekwoon then stands. He casts a quick glance at Soojung and an even quicker glance at Anna. He's quiet for a minute or so before he suddenly begins to speak again. "Soojung?" He says, directing his attention towards her.

"Yes, sire?"

"I have an errand I would like you to run, if that is all right with you?"

Soojung nods, lightly bowing. "Of course. What would you like me to do?"

"Please acquaint yourself with Anna's room for the night. You have met and interacted with Taemin before, so keeping the demon occupied should not be too much of a feat. Feel free to reprimand him but our main goal is to find out his direct reasoning. To find out if it is individually driven or group driven -- as in, is hell involved. Feel free to let him know that what he has done could very well cause irreversible damage into the individual he titles his 'best friend'. As for Anna, I must check that she has not been harmed or damaged. In the case of damage, I need to check whether or not it is reversible. I am hoping it is nothing too drastic." He turns towards Anna this time, unhesitating. "How long did you sleep, if you can recall?"

"I-I do not know the exact timing but it was not very long."

"You received after effects, did you not? Did they occur instantly after you awoke, or did they take time to appear?"

"I," Anna begins, pausing to recollect her thoughts. "I was in a perpetual state of confusion throughout, and I recall not feeling... real. I recall not being able to place my surroundings. But other than that, at first, I received no other after effects."

Taekwoon hums. "Please follow me into this room, I will call for Sooyeon's assistance whilst Soojung begins her mission." He turns towards Soojung. "You are dismissed, Soojung. Good luck. Please do not give into Taemin's bait, if any bait is presented to you. I am aware of how vindictive he gets when genuinely angry. Which I presume he will be when he finds out what the after effects of forcing Anna to sleep are, if his initial intentions were not malicious in the slightest."

Soojung nods, bowing once more. She swiftly makes her way to the front door of her mentor's house and takes her leave.

 

Once out of Archangel Taekwoon's house, Soojung gets started on her requested errand. She quickens her pace and makes her way down the empty dust road of their respective area and finds herself standing in front of Anna's house. She twists open the handle and quietly lets herself in.

She's never been in Anna's house when the blonde angel wasn't around before, so takes this time to drink in her surroundings. It's mostly bare, exceedingly empty. There are vast spaces of nothingness in every corner and it's pretty much a mirror image of her own home.

The only difference is where they've positioned their tables.

Soojung keeps hers by the window. Anna's is placed in the middle of the room.

Sighing, Soojung makes her way over to the table and the seat aligned directly behind it and takes a seat. She straightens her posture, realizing that she's probably going to be waiting a while. Which in contrast to many others, doesn't bother her much. She likes to sit around, alone, free to think her own thoughts and question every aspect of everything she's ever known.

Perhaps that's why she was so interested in what it was Anna saw, so much that it momentarily distracted her from figuring out a way to help her blonde friend. She's always wanted to know what happens to angels when they sleep, but never had the courage to find out. She knows she's got it good here, and in angel aspects is really quite lucky. She's aligned under her correct alignment, trusts and respects her mentor, has a friend, and isn't forced to interact with Hongbin on a regular basis. It's better than most, she believes.

Taemin, however, always finds a way to make her feel like what he calls a 'robot'. She has no idea what one is or why he brings it up so often and so casually, but she's begun to realize that it's not a good thing, or at least in his opinion. He tells her she's a living, breathing machine and that she's been programmed to have no thoughts, and even if she wants to engage in curiosity -- something he claims everyone else is able and allowed to -- she'll be locked up for it. She knows she shouldn't let it bother her, but he's so quick to dismiss their hard work and effort just because they don't drastically differ from one to the other, under their respective alignments. Just because there isn't a lot of variety.

Soojung also dislikes interacting with Taemin because every time she does she realizes she questions things to an even heightened degree than before, which is very worrying. She's not supposed to question things above her caliber. But it's all Taemin seems to bring up when he's not grumbling about Heaven's newer system is a flawed system and how his best friend would never forgive him and look on in horror at what she's become. 

Or ex-best friend, in Soojung's opinion. Her Anna is an angel, a celestial, immortal being. His Anna was human, she was mortal, it was many, many years into the past. Clearly they're two different people.

Clearly one has gone for good. And all that remains is her Anna, not his.

In Soojung's honest opinion, if Taemin cares so much for Anna, why can't he accept who she is now, too? What's so wrong with befriending angel Anna? Why is human Anna the only Anna he will accept? For such a supposedly open minded best friend... Soojung shakes her head. She's beginning to dread this meeting. Taemin is not someone she enjoys acquainting herself with.

She taps her fingers against the material of the seat she's sitting in, still waiting. Demons by nature are creatures of the night. She's presuming Taemin will appear when the sky begins to darken. But Taemin is very unpredictable, so she can never be sure.

A few minutes of pure silence pass and Soojung's sitting still, posture perfected. Not a moment later, she hears a loud crash. The sound reverberates around the room, but it's not coming from the room she's currently inhabiting, it's coming from above. She raises an eyebrow, quickly making a move up onto her feet, ready to investigate.

Surely it won't be Taemin, will it?

Making her way over to the stairs, she stealthily begins to ascend. She's certain it's not Anna, as Anna's still occupied with Archangel Taekwoon. The only viable possibility left would be Taemin, would it not?

Angel houses are quite unique, the reason being if anyone outside of an alignment or outside of the Heavenly inhabitants -- Taemin, for instance -- were to enter a respective angels' house, at all times, there must be at least one of the angels under the alignment of they house they're planning on entering present.

Once she enters the room, her eyes fall upon the aforementioned individual. Taemin's laying on the floor, cramped up in an awkward position. There's what looks like a bruise on his forehead and a cut on his lip. It's bleeding.

Soojung comes to the stark realization that her waiting was entirely useless, as Taemin's been here a lot longer than she previously anticipated. It has been hours since Anna and Soojung's conversation this morning, hours since Soojung realized that Anna had slept.

"You really are here," Soojung notes, glancing at the taller brunette. "Already."

Taemin blinks, rubbing at his head, wincing as he does. "Jung Soojung," he says blankly, nose crinkling in distaste. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I could bring that same question right back to you. Why are you up here, have you never heard of a front door? How long have you been here?" There are two possible answers to her question. Since the night before, the time in which Anna had obviously had to have fallen asleep. Or since the morning of Anna and Soojung's conversation.

Taemin pushes himself up onto his feet, but he's still wincing. "I don't know," he mutters, still sounding disorientated. "I think I fell asleep. But I... I can't recall anything since... getting here. And now that I'm up, I can certainly feel that my body is aching. Judging from the position and the pain, I probably look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards." He then laughs, though it lacks true humor. "But oh well."

Soojung stays frozen to the spot, watching in bewilderment and sheer confusion.

"Hey," Taemin then says. "Where's Anna?"

Soojung doesn't reply, still frozen to the spot.

Taemin scoffs. He makes his way over to Soojung and stealthily creeps behind her. "Boo," he whispers in her ear eerily.

Soojung doesn't even react.

"Angels are never any fun." Taemin lets out a small sigh. "Seriously though, where's Anna?"

Soojung still doesn't reply.

Taemin rolls his eyes. "Yah, Jung Soojung," he hisses, waving his hands in front of her face. "Is this a new angel thing, huh? You've upgraded from robot to statue now?" He then 'tsks'. "Though in all seriousness, that'd be a downgrade, no? What the fuck do statues even do? At least robots have a functioning purpose."

Soojung finally seems to snap out of her trance, but she still regards Taemin with weariness.

"Am I in the wrong house?" Taemin furrows his eyebrows. "Is that why Anna's not here? And things feel... off?"

Soojung watches him with slight regard. "How did you know that Anna is not here?"

"Uh," Taemin shrugs his shoulders. "I just... did? She is my best friend, you know. I know these things."

"That is not possible," Soojung says bluntly.

He points to himself. "Demon. In heaven. Also technically not possible, yet here I am."

Soojung opens her mouth to speak, but closes it soon after, the words ceasing to exist. The movement is barely detectable, but there's a flash of what appears to be anger lighting up behind her features.

Which Taemin instantly notices and instantly breaks out into laughter at, his grin stretching wide on his face, exposing his top row of teeth. "You absolutely cannot stand being proven wrong by me, can you?" His grin widens. "It's a very amusing thing to witness, if I do say so myself."

Soojung doesn't reply, but the minutely peeved look remains.

Taemin rolls his eyes at her silence and lack of defense against his words. "So where's Anna? Now that I look around, I'm pretty sure this is Anna's house."

Soojung sends him a look he can't exactly decipher but presumes is a mix of being peeved and mildly disgusted with him. Angels' expressions are barely visible, and it takes a lot of practice to identify what it is they're trying to express facially. Taemin's had practice with Anna, but even Anna is a tough case. 

"You should know," Soojung finally says, eyes narrowing the tiniest bit. Taemin picks up on that much. "You were the one to put her in this situation, after all."

Taemin's eyebrows furrow together in an instant, confusion playing clearly on his features. "What are you talking about?"

Soojung tilts her head up, glancing over his shoulder. Once she looks back she shakes her head in what Taemin presumes is disbelief. "Do not act as if you are unaware, Lee Taemin. We know it was you."

"Seriously," Taemin says. "Just what are you talking about? What was me? I honestly have no idea as to what it is you're referencing."

"It was incredibly low, even for you."

Taemin raises a challenging eyebrow, but ultimately, he's more confused than offended. "Are you going to keep on sprouting ambiguous sentences at me or are you actually going to let me in on what it is I've supposedly done?"

"Supposedly." Soojung scoffs, and Taemin can catch a hint of dry sarcasm lacing into her words.

Taemin's eyes narrow in calculation, but this time, he's the one who doesn't reply.

"Before we get into that," Soojung says. "There is one thing I would like to ask you."

As if he's blanking her out, he casts a glance over her shoulder and smirks. "It's not a surprising thing by any stretch of the imagination, but you don't have much of an aura, Soojung. Just this blank, gray outline that's connecting to... nothing. A vast emptiness. Most of the time when I interact with you and your robotic kind, I completely disregard it and act like it's not there, because in all honesty, what's the point of checking in on it if it's just... empty? If there's nothing to read in it? So I suppose you can understand my surprise when I say that right now, that's not the case. There's something there today. A teensy tiny spark of something. Surprisingly not gray." He purses his lips. "I'm pretty good at reading people even without the help of this... thing I possess, but with your kind, it's near impossible. There's nothing to read. Even when your aura isn't blank--like right now--it's ridiculously hard to define. The closest I can define right now, well, there's two options..."

"Stop trying to divert the topic."

"I'll stop diverting the topic when you stop believing I'll magically infer your point from ambiguous statements. It's a two way street." He then moves over to the bed that's placed towards the right corner of the room, and laughs, the sound a little bitter. "What's the point of having a bed in a room if it's not going to be of any use? Angels don't sleep. Don't you think it's a bit... what's the word... barbaric?"

Soojung's expression doesn't change, there's no hint of surprise on her features. "So you do know, after all. Just as I predicted."

"What?"

"You do know that angels do not sleep."

"Yeah," Taemin drags the word out. "Isn't that common knowledge?" He pauses, glancing at her with regard. "Did you just do something to me?" 

Soojung doesn't respond to his question, and Taemin's eyes narrow. "You are aware that letting your knowledge of this out in the open to me is going to do nothing to back up your tactically placed obliviousness, are you not?"

Taemin hums, resting his head in his palms and blinking up curiously at the brunette angel who is standing. Though, his eyes are more focused on the area a little over her shoulder at where her under-active aura places than at her. "So one of them really is doubt, huh?" He chuckles. "Damn. Didn't know _you_ had the ability to doubt. Considering that thus far, you and your know-it-all kind have everything under control and figured out, don't you?"

Soojung chooses not to answer to this. "I am under the impression that you are aware of what has taken place with Anna. In that she fell asleep, or," the brunette angel drags the word out. "Was forced."

The surprise that laces into Taemin's expression can't be faked. "Anna, too?" Taemin nods. "As in she just randomly... blacked out and ended up somewhere else entirely? Interesting."

Soojung pauses. But then seems to shake it off, reverting back to her main point. "You are our primary suspect, Lee Taemin."

Taemin nods. He then rolls over so he's laying on his back on the bed, placing his arms underneath his head and stretching his legs out. "Can't say I'm surprised," he says easily.

Soojung blinks. "So you are admitting to what you have done?" She raises an eyebrow. "That easily?"

"Sure," Taemin says as he shrugs. "Is that what you want me to say?"

Soojung watches him with regard.

"I'm used to being blamed for things I didn't do, don't sweat it." Taemin chuckles, his whole demeanor is relaxed, non-committal. But his eyes appear to burn with a well contained fury, something that goes unnoticed by Soojung. "I'll take the fall."

"Even though you are now claiming you are not guilty?"

"It goes both ways, I guess. Logically." He pushes himself up into a sitting position. "My claim -- one I know you're not even going to take into account, regardless of whether or not I was there in the first place -- is completely rebutted by the fact that I'm a demon, right? According to heaven, demons all have ulterior motives and are as corrupt as they come. Of course. No exceptions."

He waits for Soojung to reply, but she doesn't. She simply listens.

"Ah, but," he says. "Hear me out for a second, okay? I know your alignment strongly dislikes going on mere speculation, so I'll try and explain the sequence of events that I witnessed as clearly as I can remember them.  
I did come here last night, just like I always do. I came to check up on Anna, just like I always do. She was evasive and disconnected when interacting with me, just like she always is. I wasn't exactly in the best of moods, so let's say I got angry.  
Let's say I got angry because I was in a bad mood, and Anna was being even less responsive than she usually is. When a person-"

He pauses.

"--Or being is in a state of anger, they'll do one of two things. They'll either let the anger out on the spot -- all of it -- and quickly let it brew over. Whoever is in the line of fire at the time will bear the brunt of it. In comparison to the second kind of anger, most occasions this anger isn't as dangerous. Dangerous at the time if it goes too far, yes. But in the grand scheme of things, once it's out, it's out. It's done. It's over. It's not dwelled on any longer.  
But the other kind of anger is the anger that brews. The anger that plots and deceives. The anger that pretends it's entirely okay and not really angry at all. The anger that's dangerous and scheming. The anger that wants to avenge. The anger that wants to twist and manipulate. The anger that wants to frame someone else for its crimes. My anger in this situation was the first kind, please believe that.  
It was evident that Anna hasn't witnessed this kind of anger before, judging from her reaction. She was frozen, taken aback. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to respond. I could see the corks turning in her eyes and her frantically looking for something to compare it back to, a concept she'd learned before so she knew how to go about the situation. But there was nothing. I threw her off guard, and this lack of knowledge and experience with this first type of anger, it made her vulnerable and unsuspecting of everything else because she was focusing so hard on trying to deal with processing it that she neglected everything else.  
Let's say the next moment -- for me -- everything went completely blank and Anna and the surroundings disappeared entirely out of my sight. I wasn't in heaven any more, I have no idea where I was. I just had this nagging feeling that I really should not have been there and was witnessing something that didn't belong to me.  
Take the situation into account here, Soojung. I'm a demon in heaven who was angry and within a split second after expressing this pent up anger, I suddenly blacked out. Everything disappeared and I ended up in some place I know someone of my kind should not have been exposed to. Demons don't have a taboo against sleep. In fact, sleep is something that's highly recommended and held in high regards in hell. It helps rejuvenate and repair us, and Woobin's witnessed first hand its healing properties. I understand it's an entirely different case for angels, and when I blacked out, I witnessed that.  
Now... for me to be the primary suspect, that means that I'd have to be fully aware and awake and have gotten Anna where she's vulnerable--"

Soojung opens her mouth to speak, but Taemin stops her.

"Let me finish," he says. "I know what you're going to say. I know the raw anger took her off guard and it would've planted a perfect foundation to force her to go to sleep. But here's the plot hole in that because for one, how does an angel be forced to sleep? How would I -- a demon -- be able to force an angel to sleep when I know no gimmicks or know hows into angelic mechanism that go beyond common knowledge? Regardless of heaven's belief, hell doesn't spend the majority of its time plotting heaven's demise.  
Each side is free to co-exist peacefully as far as we're concerned and we won't cause any trouble so long as you don't. And before you even say it, I get that I'm well... me and I'm the way I am and I do things the way I do and you could easily rebut my last point and call me contradictory. But in that sense, my only ties with heaven are Anna.  
The rest is nothing to do with me. I don't interrupt your other heavenly endeavors. I never have. The only person I am concerned with in heaven is Anna. Which gets me onto my next point, Anna's my best friend and I'd never force her to do anything she didn't want to do. I'd never ever put her in a position of danger. As far as my knowledge goes, when angels sleep, they're put in a position of danger. I know it may be hard to believe and understand from your stoic angelic 'I'm not allowed to have friends or emotions or anything outside of accepted scripture' perspective, but--"

Before he can finish Soojung clears her throat, sounding a little uncomfortable. "N-no," she says, bowing her head slightly as to avoid his eyes. "I do. Understand."

Taemin quirks an eyebrow, but decides not to press it further. "Basically what I'm saying is, every point I make, I can argue against, too. I know that, I can see that. No matter how much evidence I bring the table, there's just as much that could be used against me. Which is why a possibility stands in that I've been framed. Or that... you know... there's a third party involved. One who knows about Anna and I. One who knows I visit here every night. The probability of them not liking it, realistically, should be high. They'll want me out of the picture. And isn't this one of the easiest and least messy ways?"

Soojung listens intently, processing everything. She blinks in surprise as she begins recalling her mentor's previous words earlier that day and how quick he was to come to the conclusion that Taemin was to blame. But at the same time she questions the authenticity of it because isn't Taemin also... "Are you suggesting that..." Soojung's eyebrows furrow and she seems to shiver in what looks like a mix of fear and betrayal. And confusion. "One under our alignment..."

Taemin shrugs. "I wouldn't cross it out entirely. I won't lie, it's a possibility."

"But--"

"Exactly," Taemin agrees. "You're not the only ones in heaven, are you?"

Soojung nods, seeming to relax a little.

"It could be anyone. My first choice wouldn't be those under your alignment, Soojung. In fact..." Taemin bites at the inside of his cheek, but then shakes his head as a peeved expression morphs onto his features. "But, what's the point on dwelling on that, huh? Haven't we already decided that I'm the one to blame?"

Soojung watches him, eyes inquiring. She doesn't answer.

Taemin bites at his lower lip this time, a calculative expression taking over from the previous peeved expression. "Like I was going to get at earlier, your case is probably stronger. Just like I said previously, with every point I use to defend myself I can also use as evidence against me.  
I was here, so that already ticks one box against me. I'm a demon, two. A demon in heaven -- something that's not meant to be possible, so three. A demon with a connection to an angel, a Destined angel nonetheless. A demon who hasn't had their memories wiped clean and holds a long standing grudge -- or perpetual dislike -- against another Archangel and despises the transitioning process entirely. On top of that I'm the only Destined demon in existence, at least as they call me, and in heaven's eyes, hell spends all its time plotting heaven's demise. Who's to say I _didn't_ cook up some master plan to dispose of a Destined angel -- as a Destined demon who supposedly doesn't want anyone else sharing this Destined title of supposed chosen one, right? Regardless of whether hell and myself have no idea what being Destined means or entails. Regardless of whether it's just as perplexing to us as it is to everyone else, minus Jung Taekwoon--"

"Archangel Taekwoon," Soojung corrects.  
  
_"--Archangel Taekwoon._ Even in the case that it could be argued that I did something to Anna -- who I constantly title my best friend -- in hopes that she'd remember something from our past, not realizing the after effects, right? That's the conclusion they'd next come to if they'd didn't believe I was here to wreak havoc. Heaven is closed minded, it's full of high standing hierarchies and perfectionists of the highest degree, who'd do anything to impress their superiors, who'd sabotage anyone to get a higher position on the food chain. Anna is the only of her kind, and basically the free for all. Take Anna down, prove her to be a fraud, prestige and recommendations will flock to you, especially by the one Archangel who dislikes Anna and this Destined concept the most. It could be any one of them.   
And I'm the perfect scapegoat, especially if they've been watching in for a while. Because no one with a right mind in this place is going to listen to me. My evidence of being there proves to act against me also, I don't stand a chance. Even in the sense that I consider Anna my closest friend and would be willing to walk away from all of the heavenly and hell-type business and staying in hiding if it meant I got my best friend back, I'd do it. Regardless of that, I'm still a demonic 'traitor' in your kinds' eyes -- or not even that because even from the beginning, I'm the enemy, aren't I? Don't think I'm naive enough as to deny the fact that if I argued against being the primary suspect, I'd be crushed to the ground. Regardless of how little everyone else knows about the situation. They're always going to find a way to prove me wrong. Even when I'm right."

"Plus," Soojung pipes up as Taemin takes a breath. "You woke up and stated that you could not recall any events since arriving here, yet not ten minutes later you had your whole story backed up in chronological order, ready to dish out when need be."

"Exactly." He taps his fingers on his jean-clad legs. "Though in my defense, when I woke up I was in a state of confusion. It lessened the more awake I became."

Soojung nods. "That is believable. Anna also went through the same thing this morning, though she appeared to not be able to recall even hours after."

Taemin sighs, tapping his foot in a nervous manner. "I hope she's okay." He then turns to Soojung. "I'm presuming Anna will get into a lot of trouble if I claim it wasn't me?"

Soojung nods her head.

Taemin nods knowingly. "Then it was me."

They seem to have come to an unspoken agreement. But Soojung can't stop herself from asking, "Who is your primary suspect, Lee Taemin?"

Taemin chuckles. The sound is bitter. "Isn't my answer already exceedingly obvious?"

Soojung seems taken aback. "Perhaps," she says a little unsurely. "I--"

"Hongbin will be the one who has masterminded this plan," Taemin supplies, eyes darkening. "Hongbin and any one of cronies, who are endless in their numbers. Look for the most fame and recognition hungry one, I could name five off hand. Tell him I'll be after him if it turns out he's involved."

Soojung blinks, but then nods, indicating she's taking in what he said. "You believe so? Archangel Hongbin has teamed up with one of his underlings to dispose of Anna or imprison her?"

Taemin nods. "The execution of it, the framing. The fact that it's Anna, the fact that it's me. The fact that other than me, there has been occasions where he's visited your alignment's 'street', hasn't he? The fact that he's a high ranking Archangel with his own alignment and the fact that he'll know things about angels and heaven and all the know hows that angels aren't taught. Just the Archangels. I could go on, but even thinking about that guy makes me angry." Taemin sighs. "My anger isn't the kind of anger your kind is used to, I don't want a repeat of what happened with Anna, so we won't go there." His nose crinkles. "Though in all seriousness Hongbin does make me want to practice and apply the second kind of anger more often times than not."

Soojung doesn't seem to have anything to say or add, she simply just nods. She's not a fan of Hongbin herself, that is one thing she and Taemin have in common.

Taemin turns to face her in that instance. "But if you really want to prove that I'm telling the truth whatever you do, don't let him in on it. Tell Taekwoon not to let him in on it either, whatever he does. Make sure your whole alignment keeps this on the down low, speak no word of it to anyone outside of your alignment. If Hongbin already knows and brings it to the table without being let in on it, then you've got your culprit caught red handed, haven't you? He'll expect me to deny it. Flat out. He'll expect me to cause a ruckus and be ready to tear heaven apart at the seems for even doubting my loyalty to Anna, won't he? But I can just imagine the surprise on his cold robotic features the minute I turn around and admit to it. That I give in to his bait. That I play along. Of all things, it'll be the last thing he's expecting."

Soojung nods. "It sounds plausible. As though it would work."

Taemin nods along also. A few seconds of silence pass before he starts humming. He abruptly stops humming and turns to look at Soojung, curious expression morphing onto his features. "Did Anna tell you what she saw?"

Soojung shakes her head instantly. "I inquired about it this morning but she was extremely shaken up and unable to recall." Soojung then holds eye contact with Taemin. "How about you, what did you see?"

Taemin seems to wince a little bit, but it's really not something Soojung picks up on. "I saw..." His eyes look a little far away. "I saw a boy."

Soojung appears confused. "A boy?"

Taemin nods. "He had jet-black hair and was on the shorter side. I don't know who he was and there was no way I was able to name him, because I'm certain we never interacted. I'm pretty sure I would've remembered him if we had.  
Everything else around me was blurred but him. It was as though he was in hyper focus, almost. And he seemed... lost. Like he was trapped and chained down in this void, searching endlessly for something in the vast array of nothingness.  
As I moved closer, I could see that he was trying to say something. It was something I couldn't make out, it was fragmented and jumbled and almost as if it was in a different language. In fact it was almost a mirror image of..."

Taemin shudders and shakes his head.

"Anyway that's when I realized I shouldn't have been there. Maybe I wasn't even sleeping to begin with. Maybe it really took place and I slipped into some place I really should not have been.  
All I know is that the haunted look in his eyes... it was even haunting for me to witness. But the most confusing thing was that the whole scene kept on repeating itself for the longest time. And then it started to differ the tiniest amount. Only minuscule changes, some I probably didn't notice.  
But whatever was going on... it got to the point where I was beginning to feel responsible for this boy. Though, realistically, I'd never met this boy before. I don't know who he was. Nor why I was there.  
At first I felt like an intruder, witnessing something that didn't belong to me. But then I felt like the... perpetrator. Like everything was my fault, and the guilt that consumed me for maybe an entire minute--that was slowed down to feel like a century, I don't know, but it made me feel like I was drowning, suffocating. There's only one other instance I could compare it to, but." Taemin cuts off here, not saying any more.

Soojung's eyebrows furrow. "I wonder who he was."

"Me too," Taemin says. "I also wonder what it was Anna saw, and if they're linked? Maybe they will be. I'll have to ask her when she comes back."

Soojung nods in agreement. "Perhaps she will be able to recall more when she returns. Still, there is one other thing. I have not yet asked you my question from earlier," she states.

Taemin raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Why is it that you." She glances at his skin. "Are not being injured, or... burned? Heaven should be poisonous to you."

Taemin yawns. "Here I was thinking you'd have some super interesting question to ask me, but that's all you wanted to know, really?"

Soojung nods. "It intrigues me. You seem to deviate from the norm."

Taemin's nose crinkles. "Unfortunately so," he says, tone sounding a little more sing-song. "And the reason why I'm not being harmed by heaven's surroundings, it actually only applies to this alignment and this street. In the main area and other streets, I react like any other demon would."

"Why is that?" Soojung asks. "Why are you immune to our alignment's area only?"

Taemin's lips pull up into a playful smile. "That something you'll have to ask Dr. Disconnected about. I'm afraid I'm not allowed to tell."

Soojung's eyebrows furrow together. "Dr. Disconnected?"

"Taekwoon."

"Archangel Taekwoon," she reminds.


	8. Section Two: Terminology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCRa7S8O-tU

**Section Two:  
Hell.**

 

A  **DEMON** _,_   _daemon_  or  _fiend_ is a paranormal, often malevolent being that has often been portrayed in religion, literature, fiction. They are prevalent in occultism, mythology and folklore.

The original Greek word  _daimon_  does not actually carry the negative connotation demons generally hold. The word daimon was initially understood by the implementation of the Koine  δαιμόνιον (daimonion), and later ascribed to any cognate words sharing the root.

However the Ancient Greek word  “δαίμων” ( _daimōn)_ denotes a spirit or divine power, much like the Latin  _genius_  or  _numen_.  _Daimōn_  most likely came from the Greek verb  _daiesthai_  (to divide, distribute).  The Greek conception of a  _daimōns_  notably appears in the works of Plato, where it describes the divine inspiration of Socrates. To distinguish the classical Greek concept from its later Christian interpretation, the former is anglicised as either  _daemon_  or  _daimon_  rather than  _demon_.

The Greek term does not have any connotations of evil or malevolence. In fact, εὐδαιμονία  _eudaimonia_ , (good-spiritedness) means happiness. The term first acquired its negative connotations in the Septuagint translation of the Hebrew Bible, which drew on the mythology of ancient Semitic religions. This was then inherited by the Koine text of the New Testament. The Western medieval and neo-medieval conception of a  _demon_  derives seamlessly from the ambient popular culture of Late (Roman) Antiquity. The Hellenistic “daemon” eventually came to include many Semitic and Near Eastern gods as evaluated by Christianity.

The supposed existence of demons is an important concept in many modern religions and occultist traditions. Demons are still feared as a popular superstition, largely due to their alleged power to possess living creatures. In the contemporary Western occultist tradition (perhaps epitomized by the work of Aleister Crowley), a demon (such as Choronzon, the Demon of the Abyss) is a useful metaphor for certain inner psychological processes (inner demons), though some may also regard it as an objectively real phenomenon. Some scholars  believe that large portions of the demonology of Judaism, a key influence on Christianity and Islam, originated from a later form of Zoroastrianism, and were transferred to Judaism during the Persian era.

In Ancient Near Eastern religions as well as in the Abrahamic traditions, including ancient and medieval Christian demonology, a demon is considered an unclean spirit and often times a fallen angel. Often considered to be the spirit of a deceased human or a spirit of unknown type which may cause demonic possession, calling for an exorcism.  
  
In Western occultism and Renaissance magic, which grew out of an amalgamation of Greco-Roman magic, Jewish demonology and Christian tradition, a demon is a spiritual entity that may be conjured and controlled.

Psychologist Wilhelm Wundt remarked that “among the activities attributed by myths all over the world to demons, the harmful predominate, so that in popular belief bad demons are clearly older than good ones.”

Sigmund Freud developed this idea and claimed that the concept of demons was derived from the important relation of the living to the dead: “The fact that demons are always regarded as the spirits of those who have died  _recently_  shows better than anything the influence of mourning on the origin of the belief in demons.”  

 

 **Occult**  — The occult (from the Latin word  _occultus_  ”clandestine, hidden, secret”) is “knowledge of the hidden”. In common English usage,  _occult_  refers to “knowledge of the paranormal”, as opposed to “knowledge of the measurable”, usually referred to as science. The term is sometimes taken to mean knowledge that “is meant only for certain people” or that “must be kept hidden”, but for most practising occultists it is simply the study of a deeper spiritual reality that extends beyond pure reason and the physical sciences. The terms  _esoteric_  and  _arcane_  have very similar meanings, and in most contexts the three terms are interchangeable.

 

 **Occultism**  — Occultism is the study of occult practices, including (but not limited to) magic, alchemy, extra-sensory perception, astrology, spiritualism, and divination. Interpretation of occultism and its concepts can be found in the belief structures of philosophies and religions such as Gnosticism, Theosophy, Wicca, Satanism, and others. A broad definition is offered by Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke:

 _“OCCULTISM has its basis in a religious way of thinking, the roots of which stretch back into antiquity and which may be described as the Western esoteric tradition. Its principal ingredients have been identified as Gnosticism, the Hermetic treatises on alchemy and magic,_ _Neo-Platonism, and the Kabbalah, all originating in the eastern Mediterranean area during the first few centuries AD._

 _From the 15th to 17th century, these ideas that are alternatively described as_ _Western esotericism, which had a revival from about 1770 onwards, due to a renewed desire for mystery, an interest in the_ _Middle Ages_ _and a_ _romantic_ _"reaction to the_ _rationalist_ _Enlightenment”._   
  
_Alchemy_ _was common among important seventeenth-century scientists, such as_ _Isaac Newton,_ _and_ _Gottfried Leibniz. Newton was even accused of introducing occult agencies into_ _natural science_ _when he postulated_ _gravity_ _as a force capable of_ _acting over vast distances. “By the eighteenth century these unorthodox religious and philosophical concerns were well-defined as ‘occult’, in as much as they lay on the outermost fringe of accepted forms of knowledge and discourse”._ _They were, however, preserved by antiquarians and mystics.”_

Based on his research into the modern German occult revival (1890–1910), Goodrick-Clarke puts forward a thesis on the driving force behind occultism. Behind its many varied forms apparently lies a uniform function, “a strong desire to reconcile the findings of modern natural science with a religious view that could restore man to a position of centrality and dignity in the universe”. Since that time many authors have emphasized a syncretic approach by drawing parallels between different disciplines.”

 

 **Mythology**  – The term “mythology” can refer either to the  _study_  of myths or to a  _body or collection_  of myths. Alan Dundes defines myth as a sacred narrative which explains how the world and humanity evolved into their present form, “a story that serves to define the fundamental worldview of a culture by explaining aspects of the natural world and delineating the psychological and social practices and ideals of a society”.

Many scholars in other fields use the term “myth” in somewhat different ways;in a very broad sense, the word can refer to any traditional story or, in casual use, a popular misconception or imaginary entity. Because the folkloristic meaning of “myth” is often confused with this more pejorative usage, the original unambiguous term “mythos” may be a better word to distinguish the positive definition from the negative.

Bruce Lincoln defines myth as “ideology in narrative form”.Myths may arise as either truthful depictions or over-elaborated of historical events, as allegory for or personification of natural phenomena, or as an explanation of ritual. They are used to convey religious or idealized experience, to establish behavioral models, and to teach.

Nineteenth-century comparative mythology reinterpreted myth as evolution toward science.  Later interpretations rejected opposition between myth and science, such as Jungian archetypes, Joseph Campbell’s “metaphor of spiritual potentiality”, or Lévi-Strauss’s fixed mental architecture. Modern mythopoeia such as fantasy novels, manga, and urban legend, with many competing artificial mythoi acknowledged as fiction, supports the idea of myth as on-going social practice. 

 ** _Nature of myths:_**  
The main characters in myths are usually gods, supernatural heroes and humans. As stories, myths are often endorsed by rulers and priests and closely linked to religion or spirituality.   
In the society in which it is told, a myth is usually regarded as a true account of the remote past. In fact, many societies have two categories of traditional narrative, “true stories” or myths, and “false stories” or fables. Creation myths generally take place in a primordial age, when the world had not yet achieved its current form, and explain how the world gained its current formand how customs, institutions and taboos were established.  
Folklore — (or lore) consists of legends, music, oral history, proverbs, jokes, popular beliefs, fairy tales, stories, tall tales, and customs included in the traditions of a culture, subculture, or group. It also includes the set of practices through which those expressive genres are shared. The study of folklore is sometimes called folkloristics, and people who study folklore are sometimes referred to as “folklorists”.

 **Folklore** can be divided into four areas of study:  
1.      _Artefacts_  (such as  _voodoo dolls_ )  
2.      _Describable and transmissible entity (oral tradition)_  
3.      _Culture_  
4.      _Behavior_  ( _rituals_ )

Unlike mythos, folktales can be set in any time and any place, and they are not considered true or sacred by the societies that tell them. Like mythos, legends are stories that are traditionally considered true, but are set in a more recent time, when the world was much as it is today. Legends generally feature humans as their main characters, whereas myths generally focus on superhuman characters.

The distinction between myth, legend, and folktale is meant simply as a useful tool for grouping traditional stories. In many cultures, it is hard to draw a sharp line between myths and legends. Instead of dividing their traditional stories into myths, legends, and folktales, some cultures divide them into two categories, one that roughly corresponds to folktales, and one that combines myths and legends. Even myths and folktales are not completely distinct. A story may be considered true (and therefore a mythos) in one society, but considered fictional (and therefore a folktale) in another society.  In fact, when a myth loses its status as part of a religious system, it often takes on traits more typical of folktales, with its formerly divine characters reinterpreted as human heroes, giants, or fairies.

Myth, legend, and folktale are only a few of the categories of traditional stories. Other categories include anecdotes and some kinds of jokes. Traditional stories, in turn, are only one category within folklore, which also includes items such as gestures, costumes, and music.

 

 **Grimoire** —Is a textbook of magic. Such books typically include instructions on how to create magical objects like talismans and amulets, how to perform magical spells, charms and divination and also how to summon or invoke supernatural entities such as angels, spirits, and demons. In many cases, the books themselves are also believed to be imbued with magical powers, though in many cultures, other sacred texts that are not grimoires, such as the Bible, have also been believed to have supernatural properties intrinsically; in this manner while all  _books on magic_  could be thought of as grimoires, not all  _magical books_  could.

 

 **Ars Goetia** —The first section, called Ars Goetia, contains descriptions of the seventy-two demons that Solomon is said to have evoked and confined in a brass vessel sealed by magic symbols, and that he obliged to work for him. It gives instructions on constructing a similar brass vessel, and using the proper magic formulae to safely call up those demons.

It deals with the evocation of all classes of spirits, evil, indifferent and good; its opening Rites are those of Paimon, Orias, Astaroth and the whole cohort of Infernus. The second part, or  _Theurgia Goëtia_ , deals with the spirits of the cardinal points and their inferiors. These are mixed natures, some good and some evil.

The  _Ars Goetia_  assigns a rank and a title of nobility to each member of the infernal hierarchy, and gives the demons’ “signs they have to pay allegiance to”, or seals.

 

 **Superstition** —Belief in supernatural causality: that one event leads to the cause of another without any natural process linking the two events, such as astrology, religion, omens, witchcraft, etc., that contradicts natural science.

Opposition to superstition was central to the intellectuals during the 18th century Age of Enlightenment. The philosophes at that time rejected any belief in miracles, revelation, magic, or the supernatural, as “superstition,” as well as unreasoned Christian doctrine.

The word  _superstition_  is sometimes used to refer to religious practices (e.g., Voodoo) other than the one prevailing in a given society (e.g., Christianity in western culture), although the prevailing religion may contain just as many superstitious beliefs. It is also commonly applied to beliefs and practices surrounding luck, prophecy, and spiritual beings, particularly the belief that future events can be foretold by specific unrelated prior events.

 

 **Possession** —Demonic possession is held by many belief systems to be the spirit possession of an individual by a malevolent preternatural being. Descriptions of demonic possessions often include erased memories or personalities, convulsions, “fits” and fainting as if one were dying. Other descriptions include access to hidden knowledge (gnosis) and foreign languages (xenoglossia), drastic changes in vocal intonation and facial structure, the sudden appearance of injuries (scratches, bite marks) or lesions, and superhuman strength. Unlike in channeling, the subject has no control over the possessing entity and so it will persist until forced to leave the victim, usually through a form of exorcism.

Many cultures and religions contain some concept of demonic possession, but the details vary considerably. The oldest references to demonic possession are from the Sumerians, who believed that all diseases of the body and mind were caused by “sickness demons” called  _gidim_  or  _gid-dim_.  The priests who practiced exorcisms in these nations were called  _ashipu_  (sorcerer) as opposed to an  _asu_ (physician) who applied bandages and salves. Many cuneiform tablets contain prayers to certain gods asking for protection from demons, while others ask the gods to expel the demons that have invaded their bodies.

 

 **Aleister Crowley** —12 October 1875 – 1 December 1947) was an English occultist, ceremonial magician, poet, painter, novelist, and mountaineer. He was responsible for founding the religion and philosophy of Thelema, in which role he identified himself as the prophet entrusted with guiding humanity into the Aeon of Horus in the early 20th century.

 

 **Choronzon** — Is a demon or devil that originated in writing with the 16th century occultists Edward Kelley and John Dee within the latter’s occult system of Enochian magic. In the 20th century he became an important element within the mystical system of Thelema, founded by Aleister Crowley, where he is the Dweller in the Abyss, believed to be the last great obstacle between the adept and enlightenment. Thelemites believe that if he is met with proper preparation, then his function is to destroy the ego, which allows the adept to move beyond the Abyss of occult cosmology.

Otherwise known as the Demon of Dispersion, Choronzon is described by Crowley as a temporary personification of the raving and inconsistent forces that occupy the Abyss. In this system, Choronzon is given form in evocation only so it may be mastered.

Crowley states that he and Victor Benjamin Neuburg evoked Choronzon in the Sahara Desert in December 1909. In Crowley’s account, it is unclear whether Choronzon was evoked into an empty Solomonic triangle while Crowley sat elsewhere, or whether Crowley himself was the medium into which the demon was invoked. Nearly all writers except Lawrence take him to mean the latter. In the account, Choronzon is described as changing shape, which is read variously as an account of an actual metamorphosis, a subjective impression of Neuburg’s, or fabrication on Crowley’s part.

The account describes the demon throwing sand over the triangle to breach it, following which it attacked Neuburg ‘in the form of a naked savage’, forcing him to drive it back at the point of a dagger. Crowley’s account has been criticised as unreliable, as the relevant original pages are torn from the notebook in which the account was written. This, along with other inconsistencies in the manuscript, has led to speculation that Crowley embroidered the event to support his own belief system. Crowley himself claimed, in a footnote to the account in Liber 418, that “(t)he greatest precautions were taken at the time, and have since been yet further fortified, to keep silence concerning the rite of evocation.” Arthur Calder-Marshall, meanwhile, asserts in  _The Magic of my Youth_ that Neuburg gave a quite different account of the event, claiming that he and Crowley evoked the spirit of “a foreman builder from Ur of the Chaldees”, who chose to call himself “P.472”. The conversation begins when two British students ask Neuburg about a version of the story in which Crowley turned him into a zebra and sold him to a zoo. Neuburg’s response in this book contradicts both the words attributed to him in Liber 418 and the statement of Crowley biographer Lawrence Sutin.

Choronzon is deemed to be held in check by the power of the Goddess Babylon, inhabitant of Binah, the third Sephirah of the Tree of Life. Both Choronzon and the Abyss are discussed in Crowley’s  _Confessions_  (ch. 66):

_"The name of the Dweller in the Abyss is Choronzon, but he is not really an individual. The Abyss is empty of being; it is filled with all possible forms, each equally inane, each therefore evil in the only true sense of the word—that is, meaningless but malignant, in so far as it craves to become real. These forms swirl senselessly into haphazard heaps like dust devils, and each such chance aggregation asserts itself to be an individual and shrieks, "I am I!" though aware all the time that its elements have no true bond; so that the slightest disturbance dissipates the delusion just as a horseman, meeting a dust devil, brings it in showers of sand to the earth."_

 

 **Demonology** —Is the systematic study of demons or beliefs about demons. It is the branch of theology relating to superhuman beings who are not gods. It deals both with benevolent beings that have no circle of worshippers or so limited a circle as to be below the rank of gods, and with malevolent beings of all kinds. The original sense of “demon”, from the time of Homer onward, was a benevolent being, but in English the name now holds connotations of malevolence. (In order to keep the distinction, when referring to the word in its original Greek meaning English uses the spelling “Daemon” or “Daimon”.)

Demons, when regarded as spirits, may belong to either of the classes of spirits recognized by primitive animism; that is to say, they may be human, or non-human, separable souls, or discarnate spirits which have never inhabited a body. A sharp distinction is often drawn between these two classes, notably by the Melanesians, several African groups, and others; the Arab jinn, for example, are not reducible to modified human souls; at the same time these classes are frequently conceived as producing identical results, e.g. diseases.

 

 **Christian demonology** —Is the study of demons from a Christian point of view. It is primarily based on the Bible (Old and New Testaments), the exegesis of these scriptures, the scriptures of early Christian philosophers and hermits, tradition and legends incorporated from other beliefs.  
  
In monotheistic religions, the deities of other religions are sometimes interpreted or created as demons. The evolution of the Christian Devil and pentagram are examples of early rituals and images that showcase evil qualities, as seen by the Christian churches.

Since Early Christianity, demonology has developed from a simple acceptance of demons to a complex study that has grown from the original ideas taken from Jewish demonology and Christian scriptures. Christian demonology is studied in depth within the Roman Catholic Church, although many other Christian churches affirm and discuss the existence of demons.

St. Albertus Magnus said of demonology, “ _A daemonibus docetur, de daemonibus docet, et ad daemones ducit_ "  _(“It is taught by the demons, it teaches about the demons, and it leads to the demons”)._

 

 **Unclean spirit** —Translates into English as spirit of impurity or more loosely as “evil spirit.” The Latin equivalent is  _spiritus immundus_.

The association of physical and spiritual cleanliness is, if not universal, widespread and continues into the 21st century: “To be virtuous is to be physically clean and free from the impurity that is sin,” notes an article in  _Scientific American_  published 10 March 2009. Some scholarshipseeks to differentiate between “unclean spirit” and “evil spirit” ( _pneuma ponêron_ ) or “demon” ( _daimonion_ ).

 

 **Fallen Angel** —A fallen angel is a wicked or rebellious angel that has been cast out of Heaven. The term is found neither in the Hebrew Bible nor the Deuterocanonical Books nor the New Testament. Nonetheless, Biblical commentators often use  _fallen angel_  to describe angels who sinned or angels cast down to the Earth from the War in Heaven; Satan, demons, or certain Watchers. The term has also become popular in fiction and literature regarding angels.

Mention of angels who descended to Mount Hermon, (not “fell”) to Earth is found in the Book of Enoch, which the Ethiopian Orthodox Church and Eritrean Orthodox Tewahedo Church accept as canonical, as well as in various pseudepigrapha.

 

 **Exorcism** —Is the practice of evicting demons or other spiritual entities from a person or an area they are believed to have possessed. Depending on the spiritual beliefs of the exorcist, this may be done by causing the entity to swear an oath, performing an elaborate ritual, or simply by commanding it to depart in the name of a higher power. The practice is ancient and part of the belief system of many cultures and religions.

Requested and performed exorcisms had begun to decline in the Western world by the 18th century and occurred rarely until the latter half of the 20th century when the public saw a sharp rise due to the media attention exorcisms were getting.

 

 **Renaissance magic** _—_ The seven  _artes magicae._  
  
**Necromancy** _—_  Is a form of magic involving communication with the deceased – either by summoning their spirit as an apparition or raising them bodily – for the purpose of divination, imparting the means to foretell future events or discover hidden knowledge. The term may sometimes be used in a more general sense to refer to black magic or witchcraft.  
  
**Geomancy**  — Is a method of divination that interprets markings on the ground or the patterns formed by tossed handfuls of soil, rocks, or sand. The most prevalent form of divinatory geomancy involves interpreting a series of 16 figures formed by a randomized process that involves recursion followed by analyzing them, often augmented with astrological interpretations.  
  
**Hydromancy**  — Is a method of divination by means of water, including the color, ebb and flow, or ripples produced by pebbles dropped in a pool.  
The Jesuit M. A. Del Rio (1551–1608) described several methods of hydromancy:-  
  
\--The first method described depicts a ring hanging by a string that is dipped into a vessel of water which was shaken. A judgment or prediction is made by the number of times which the ring strikes the sides of the vessel.

\--A second method is when three pebbles are thrown into standing water and observations are made from the circles formed when the objects strike the water.  
  
\--The third method described depended upon the agitation of the water, this custom was prevalent among Oriental Christians of annually baptizing that element, at the same time as taking especial care to show that the betrothment of the Adriatic by the Doge of Venice had a wholly different origin.  
  
\--A fourth method used colors of the water and figures appearing in it by which Varro stated that many prognostications were made concerning the Mithridatic War. This branch of the divination proved so important that it was given a separate name and there arose from it the divination of fountains whose waters were frequently visited.

 **Aeromancy** — Is divination conducted by interpreting atmospheric conditions. Aeromancy uses cloud formations, wind currents and cosmological events such as comets to attempt to divine the future. There are sub-types of this practice which are as follows: austromancy (wind divination), ceraunoscopy (observing thunder and lightning), chaomancy (aerial vision), meteormancy (meteors and shooting stars) and nephomancy (cloud divination). In Renaissance magic, aeromancy was classified as one of the seven “forbidden arts,” along with necromancy, geomancy, hydromancy, pyromancy, chiromancy and scapulimancy.  
  
**Pyromancy —** Is the art of divination by means of fire. Due to the importance of fire in society from the earliest of times, it is quite likely that pyromancy was one of the earlier forms of divination.    
_Types of pyromancy:_ The most basic form of pyromancy is that in which the diviner observes flames, from a sacrificial fire, a candle, or another source of flame, and interprets the shapes that he or she sees within them. There are several variations on pyromancy, however, some of which are as follows:-  
_Alomancy:_  divination by salt, one type of which involves casting salt into a fire.  
_Botanomancy:_  divination by burning plants.  
_Capnomancy:_ divination by smoke; light, thin smoke that rose straight up was a good omen; otherwise, a bad one.  
_Causinomancy:_  divination by burning (non-specific as to the object burned).  
_Daphnomancy:_  (also, Empyromancy), divination by burning laurel leaves.  
_Osteomancy:_  divination using bones, one type of which involves heating to produce cracks  
_Plastromancy:_  divination using turtle plastrons; in China, this was done by heating pits carved into them.  
_Scapulimancy:_  divination by scapulae; in Asia and North America, this was done pyromantically.  
_Sideromancy:_ divination by burning straw with an iron.

 **Palmistry/chiromancy** _—_  Is the art of characterization and foretelling the future through the study of the palm, also known as palm reading or chirology. The practice is found all over the world, with numerous cultural variations. Those who practice chiromancy are generally called  _palmists_ ,  _palm readers_ ,  _hand readers_ ,  _hand analysts_ , or  _chirologists_.  
Chiromancy consists of the practice of evaluating a person’s character or future life by “reading” the palm of that person’s hand. Various “lines” (“heart line”, “life line”, etc.) and “mounts” (or bumps) purportedly suggest interpretations by their relative sizes, qualities, and intersections. In some traditions, readers also examine characteristics of the fingers, fingernails, fingerprints, and palmar skin patterns, skin texture and color, shape of the palm, and flexibility of the hand.    
  
A reader usually begins by reading the person’s ‘dominant hand’ (the hand he or she writes with or uses the most, sometimes considered to represent the conscious mind, whereas the other hand is subconscious). In some traditions of palmistry, the other hand is believed to carry hereditary or family traits, or, depending on the palmist’s cosmological beliefs, to convey information about past-life or karmic conditions.  
  
The basic framework for “Classical” palmistry (the most widely taught and practiced tradition) is rooted in Greek mythology. Each area of the palm and fingers is related to a god or goddess, and the features of that area indicate the nature of the corresponding aspect of the subject. For example, the ring finger is associated with the Greek god Apollo; characteristics of the ring finger are tied to the subject’s dealings with art, music, aesthetics, fame, wealth, and harmony.  
  
Significance of the left and right hands:  
Though there are debateson which hand is better to read from, both have their own significance. It is customto assume that the left hand shows potential in an individual, and the right shows realized personality. Some sayings about the significance include “The future is shown in the right, the past in the left”; “The left hand is the one we are born with, and the right is what we have made of it”; “The left is what the gods give you, the right is what you do with it”. The choice of hand to read is ultimately up to the instinct and experience of the practitioner.  
  
Left:  
The left hand is controlled by the right brain (pattern recognition, relationship understanding), reflects the inner person, the natural self, the anima, and the lateral thinking.  
  
Right:  
As opposites are, the right hand is controlled by the left brain (logic, reason, and language), reflects the outer person, objective self, influence of social environment, education, and experience. It represents linear thinking.  
  
Hand shape:  
Earth hands are generally identified by broad, square palms and fingers, thick or coarse skin, and ruddy color. The length of the palm from wrist to the bottom of the fingers is usually equal to the length of the fingers.  
  
Air hands exhibit square or rectangular palms with long fingers and sometimes protruding knuckles, low-set thumbs, and often dry skin. The length of the palm from wrist to the bottom of the fingers is usually equal to the length of the fingers.  
  
Water hands are seeable by the short, sometimes oval-shaped palm, with long, flexible, conical fingers. The length of the palm from wrist to the bottom of the fingers is usually less than the width across the widest part of the palm, and usually equal to the length of the fingers.  
  
Fire hands are characterized by a square or rectangular palm, flushed or pink skin, and shorter fingers. The length of the palm from wrist to the bottom of the fingers is usually greater than the length of the fingers.

  **Scapulimancy**  — is the practice of divination by use of scapulae (shoulder blades). In the context of the oracle bones of ancient China, which chiefly utilized both scapulae and the plastrons of turtle,  _scapulimancy_  is sometimes used in a very broad sense to jointly refer to both scapulimancy and plastromancy (similar divination using plastrons). However, the term  _osteomancy_  might be more appropriate, referring to divination using bones. Many archaeological sites along the south coast and offlying islands of the Korean peninsula show that deer and pig scapulae were used in divination during the Korean Protohistoric Period, c. 300 BC - AD 300/400.    
  
Historically, scapulimancy has taken two major forms. In the first, “apyromantic”, the scapula of an animal was simply examined after its slaughter. This form was widespread in Europe, Northern Africa and the Near East. However, the second form, ”pyromantic” scapulimancy, involving the heating or burning of the bone and interpretation of the results, was practiced in East Asia and North America. 

 

 **Daemon** — Daemons are benevolent or benign nature spirits, beings of the same nature as both mortals and gods, similar to ghosts, chthonic heroes, spirit guides, forces of nature or the gods themselves.

In Hesiod’s  _Theogony_ , Phaëton becomes an incorporeal  _daimon_  or a divine spiritbut, for example, the ills released by Pandora are deadly gods,  _keres_ , not  _daimones_. From Hesiod also, the people of the Golden Age were transformed into  _daimones_  by the will of Zeus, to benevolently serve mortals as their guardian spirits; “good beings who dispense riches, they remain invisible, known only by their acts”. The  _daimon_  of venerated heroes, were localized by the construction of shrines, so as not to restlessly wander, and were believed to confer protection and good fortune on those offering their respects.

Characterizations of the daemon as a dangerous, if not evil, lesser spirit were developed by Plato and his pupil Xenocrates, and later absorbed in Christian patristic writings along with Neo-Platonic elements.

Satanists have used the word  _demon_  to define a knowledge that has been banned by the Church.

 

 **Agathodaemon** —In ancient Greek religion, Agathos Daimon or Agathodaemon  was a  _daemon_  or presiding spirit of the vineyards and grainfields and a personal companion spirit, similar to the Roman  _genius_ , ensuring good luck, health, and wisdom.

 

 **Cacodemon**  — is an evil spirit or (in the modern sense of the word) a demon. The opposite of a cacodemon is an  _agathodaemon_  or  _eudaemon_ , a good spirit or angel. In psychology, cacodemonia (or cacodemomania) is a form of insanity in which the patient believes that they are possessed by an evil spirit.

 

 **Daimonic** — typically means quite a few things: from befitting a demon and fiendish, to motivated by a spiritual force or genius and inspired. As a psychological term, it has come to represent an elemental force which contains an irrepressible drive towards individuation. As a literary term, it can also mean the dynamic unrest that exists in us all that forces us into the unknown, leading to self-destruction and/or self-discovery.

  
**_Seven deadly sins._**  
This classification originated with the desert fathers, especially Evagrius Ponticus, who identified seven or eight evil thoughts or spirits that one needed to overcome. Evagrius' pupil John Cassian, with his book _The Institutes,_ brought the classification to Europe, where it became fundamental to Catholic confessional practices as evident in penitential manuals, sermons like "The Parson's Tale" from Chaucer's _Canterbury Tales,_ and artworks like Dante's _Purgatory_ (where the penitents of Mount Purgatory are depicted as being grouped and penanced according to the worst capital sin they committed). The Church used the doctrine of the deadly sins in order to help people stop their inclination towards evil before dire consequences and misdeeds occur; the leader-teachers especially focused on pride (which is thought to be the one that severs the soul from Grace, and one that is representative and the very essence of all evil) and greed, both of which are seen as inherently sinful and as underlying all other sins (although greed, when viewed just by itself and discounting all the sins it might lead to, is generally thought be less serious than sloth). To inspire people to focus on the seven deadly sins, the vices are discussed in treatises, and depicted in paintings and sculpture decorations on churches. Peter Brueghel the Elder's prints of the Seven Deadly Sins and extremely numerous other works, both non-religious and religious, show the continuity of this practice in the culture and everyday life of the modern era.

Biblical antecedents.  
The seven deadly sins in their current form are not found in the bible, however there are biblical antecedents. Among the verses traditionally associated with King Solomon, it states that the Lord specifically regards "six things doth the LORD hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto him":

  1. A proud (vain) look
  2. A lying tongue.
  3. Hands that shed innocent blood
  4. A heart that deviseth wicked acts
  5. Feet that be swift in running to mischief
  6. A false witness that speaketh lies
  7. He that soweth discord among brethren



Another list, given this time by the Epistle to the Galatians (Galatians 5:19–21), includes more of the traditional seven sins, although the list is substantially longer: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, "and such like". Since the apostle Paul goes on to say that the persons who practice these sins "shall not inherit the Kingdom of God", they are usually listed as (possible) mortal sins rather than capital vices.

Most of the capital sins, with the sole exception of sloth, are defined by Dante Alighieri as perverse or corrupt versions of love for something or another: lust, gluttony, and greed are all excessive or disordered love of good things; sloth is a deficiency of love; wrath, envy, and pride are perverted love directed toward other's harm. In the seven capital sins are seven ways of eternal death. The capital sins from lust to envy are generally associated with pride, which has been labeled as the father of all sins, etc.

 

 **LUST  
** Lust, or lechery (Latin, " _luxuria_ " (carnal)), is intense longing. It is usually thought of as intense or unbridled sexual desire, which leads to fornication, adultery, rape, bestiality, and other immoral sexual acts. However, lust could also mean simply desire in general; thus, lust for money, power, and other things are sinful. In accordance with the words of Henry Edward, the impurity of lust makes one "a slave of the devil".

Lust, if not managed properly, can subvert propriety.

German philosopher Schopenhauer wrote:

 

> "Lust is the ultimate goal of almost all human endeavour, exerts an adverse influence on the most important affairs, interrupts the most serious business, sometimes for a while confuses even the greatest minds, does not hesitate with its trumpery to disrupt the negotiations of statesmen and the research of scholars, has the knack of slipping its love-letters and ringlets even into ministerial portfolios and philosophical manuscripts".

 

 **GLUTTONY  
** Gluttony (Latin, _gula_ ) is the overindulgence and overconsumption of anything to the point of waste. The word derives from the Latin _gluttire_ , meaning to gulp down or swallow.

In Christianity, it is considered a sin if the excessive desire for food causes it to be withheld from the needy.

Because of these scripts, gluttony can be interpreted as selfishness; essentially placing concern with one's own impulses or interests above the well-being or interests of others.

During times of famine, war, and similar periods when food is scarce, it is possible for one to indirectly kill other people through starvation just by eating too much or even too soon.

 **GREED  
** Greed (Latin, _avaritia_ ), also known as avarice, cupidity or covetousness, is, like lust and gluttony, a sin of desire. However, greed (as seen by the Church) is applied to an artificial, rapacious desire and pursuit of material possessions. Thomas Aquinas wrote, _"Greed is a sin against God, just as all mortal sins, in as much as man condemns things eternal for the sake of temporal things."_ In Dante's Purgatory, the penitents were bound and laid face down on the ground for having concentrated too much on earthly thoughts. Hoarding of materials or objects, theft and robbery, especially by means of violence, trickery, or manipulation of authority are all actions that may be inspired by Greed. Such misdeeds can include simony, where one attempts to purchase or sell sacraments, including Holy Orders and, therefore, positions of authority in the Church hierarchy.

In the words of Henry Edward, avarice "plunges a man deep into the mire of this world, so that he makes it to be his god."

As defined outside Christian writings, greed is an inordinate desire to acquire or possess more than one needs, especially with respect to material wealth. Like pride, it can lead to not just some, but all evil.

 **SLOTH  
** Sloth (Latin, _tristitia_ or _acedia_ ("without care") refers to a peculiar jumble of notions, dating from antiquity and including mental, spiritual, pathological, and physical states. It may be defined as absence of interest or habitual disinclination to exertion.

In his _Summa Theologica_ , Saint Thomas Aquinas defined sloth as "sorrow about spiritual good".

The scope of sloth is wide. Spiritually, _acedia_ first referred to an affliction attending religious persons, especially monks, wherein they became indifferent to their duties and obligations to God. Mentally, _acedia_ , has a number of distinctive components of which the most important is affectlessness, a lack of any feeling about self or other, a mind-state that gives rise to boredom, rancor, apathy, and a passive inert or sluggish mentation, Physically, _acedia_ is fundamentally associated with a cessation of motion and an indifference to work; it finds expression in laziness, idleness, and indolence.

Sloth includes ceasing to utilize the seven gifts of grace given by the Holy Spirit (Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fortitude, and Fear of the Lord); such disregard may lead to the slowing of one's spiritual progress towards eternal life, to the neglect of manifold duties of charity towards the neighbor, and to animosity towards those who love God.

Sloth has also been defined as a failure to do things that one should do. By this definition, evil exists when "good" people fail to act.

Unlike the other capital sins, which are sins of committing immorality, sloth is a sin of omitting responsibilities. It may arise from any of the other capital vices; for example, a son may omit his duty to his father through anger. While the state and habit of sloth is a mortal sin, the habit of the soul tending towards the last mortal state of sloth is not mortal in and of itself except under certain circumstances.  
  
**WRATH  
** Wrath (Latin, _ira_ ) can be defined as uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred, often revealing itself in the wish to seek vengeance. Wrath, in its purest form, presents with injury, violence, and hate that may provoke feuds that can go on for centuries. Wrath may persist long after the person who did another a grievous wrong is dead. Feelings of wrath can manifest in different ways, including impatience, hateful misanthropy, revenge, and self-destructive behavior, such as drug abuse or suicide.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, the neutral act of anger becomes the sin of wrath when it's directed against an innocent person, when it's unduly strong or long-lasting, or when it desires excessive punishment. _"If anger reaches the point of a deliberate desire to kill or seriously wound a neighbor, it is gravely against charity; it is a mortal sin."_  

People feel angry when they sense that they or someone they care about has been offended, when they are certain about the nature and cause of the angering event, when they are certain someone else is responsible, and when they feel they can still influence the situation or cope with it.

Dante described vengeance as "love of justice perverted to revenge and spite".

In accordance with Henry Edward, angry people are "slaves to themselves".

 **ENVY  
** Envy (Latin, _invidia_ ), like greed and lust, is characterized by an insatiable desire. It can be described as a sad or resentful covetousness towards the traits or possessions of someone else. It arises from vainglory, and severs a man from his neighbor.

Malicious envy is similar to jealousy in that they both feel discontent towards someone's traits, status, abilities, or rewards. A difference is that the envious also desire the entity and covet it. Envy can be directly related to the Ten Commandments, specifically, _"Neither shall you covet... anything that belongs to your neighbour."_ (a statement that may also be related to greed). Dante defined envy as _"a desire to deprive other men of theirs"_. In Dante's Purgatory, the punishment for the envious is to have their eyes sewn shut with wire because they have gained sinful pleasure from seeing others brought low. According to St. Thomas Aquinas, the struggle aroused by envy has three stages:during the first stage, the envious person attempts to lower another's reputation; in the middle stage, the envious person receives either "joy at another's misfortune" (if he succeeds in defaming the other person) or "grief at another's prosperity" (if he fails); the term is hatred, because "sorrow causes hatred".

Envy is said to be the motivation behind Cain murdering his brother, Abel, as Cain envied Abel because God favored Abel's sacrifice over Cain's.

 **PRIDE  
** The negative version of pride (Latin, _superbia_ ) is considered, on almost every list, the original and most serious of the seven deadly sins: the perversion of the faculties that make humans more like God—dignity and holiness. It is also thought to be the source of the other capital sins. Also known as hubris, or futility, it is identified as dangerously corrupt selfishness, the putting of one's own desires, urges, wants, and whims before the welfare of people.

In even more destructive cases, it is irrationally believing that one is essentially and necessarily better, superior, or more important than others, failing to acknowledge the accomplishments of others, and excessive admiration of the personal image or self (especially forgetting one's own lack of divinity, and refusing to acknowledge one's own limits, faults, or wrongs as a human being).

 

> What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools.
> 
> — Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism, line 203.

As pride has been labelled the father of all sins, it has been deemed the devil's most prominent trait.  Pride is understood to sever the soul from God, as well as His life-and-grace-giving Presence.

 **Princes of Hell.**  
The study of demonology was historically used to understand morality, behavioral tendencies, and has even been used as symbolism to relay anecdotal tales in folklore. Classification systems are based on the supposed nature of the demon, the alleged sin with which they lure people into temptation and may also include the angels or saints that were believed to have been their adversaries; an idea which derived from the Biblical battle between the Archangel Michael and Satan in The Book of Revelation (12:7-9) describing a war in heaven which resulted in Satan and his angels being expelled from Heaven. The classifications of these fallen angels are based on many other characteristics as well, such as behaviors that caused their fall from heaven, physical appearances or the methods that were used to torment people, cause maladies, or illicit dreams, emotions, etc. Most authors who wrote theological dissertations on the subject either truly believed in the existence of infernal spirits, or wrote as a philosophical guide to understanding an ancient perspective of behavior and morality in folklore and religious themes.

 ** _Lucifer.  
_**_The adversary._  Lucifer whose name translates to “shining one, morning star, Lucifer” is a Fallen Angel. In Greek as ἑωσφόρος ( _heōsphoros_ ), a name, literally “bringer of dawn”, for the morning star.

Of pre-Christian Enochic Judaism, the form of Judaism witnessed to in 1 Enoch and 2 Enoch 2, which enjoyed much popularity during the Second Temple period, gave Satan an expanded role, interpreting Isaiah _14:12-15_ , with its reference to the morning star, as applicable to him, and presenting him as a Fallen Angel cast out of heaven for refusing to bow to Adam, of whom Satan was envious and jealous.

Christian writers explained the motives of the Angel’s rebellion and the nature of his sin in the same way, but added pride against God, which they mention more frequently than envy or jealousy with regard to humanity.

Christian tradition, influenced by the Jewish presentation of the passage of Isaiah as applicable to Satan, came to use the Latin word for “morning star”,  _lucifer_ , as a proper name (“Lucifer”) for Satan as Satan was before his fall.

In a modern translation from the original Hebrew, the passage in which the phrase “Lucifer” or “morning star” occurs begins with the statement: _“On the day the Lord gives you relief from your suffering and turmoil and from the harsh labour forced on you, you will take up this taunt against the king of Babylon: How the oppressor has come to an end! How his fury has ended!”_  After describing the death of the king, the taunt continues:  _"How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.’ But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit. Those who see you stare at you, they ponder your fate: ‘Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made the world a wilderness, who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?’"_

  
**_Beelzebub._**  
In Christian demonology, he is one of the seven princes of Hell according to Catholic views on Hell. The _Dictionnaire Infernal_ describes Beelzebub as a demonic fly who is also known as the "Lord of the Flies".   
  
In Christian demonology and occult, Beelzebub is commonly described as placed high in Hell's hierarchy. According to the stories of the 16th-century occultist Johann Weyer, Beelzebub led a successful revolt against the Devil, is the chief lieutenant of Lucifer, the Emperor of Hell, and presides over the Order of the Fly. Similarly, the 17th-century exorcist Sebastien Michaelis, in his _Admirable History_ (1612), placed Beelzebub among the three most prominent fallen angels, the other two being Lucifer and Leviathan, whereas two 18th-century works identified an unholy trinity consisting of Beelzebub, Lucifer, and Astaroth. John Milton featured Beelzebub seemingly as the second-ranking of the many fallen cherubim in the epic poem _Paradise Lost_ , first published in 1667. Milton wrote of Beelzebub, "than whom, Satan except, none higher sat."   
__  
**Satan.**  
Is a figure appearing in the texts of the Abrahamic religions who brings evil and temptation, and is known as the deceiver who leads humanity astray. Some religious groups teach that he originated as an angel, or something of the like, who used to possess great piety and beauty, but fell because of hubris, seducing humanity into the ways of falsehood and sin, and has power in the fallen world. In the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament, Satan is primarily an accuser and adversary, a decidedly malevolent entity, also called the devil, who possesses abhorrent qualities.   
  
__**Abaddon.**  
The Hebrew term Abaddon appears in the Bible as both a place of destruction and as the name of an angel. In the Hebrew Bible, abaddon is used with reference to a bottomless pit, often appearing alongside the place שאול (sheol), meaning the realm of the dead. In the New Testament Book of Revelation, an angel called Abaddon is described as the king of an army of locusts; his name is first transcribed in Greek (Revelation 9:11—"whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon" (Ἀβαδδὼν)), and then translated ("which in Greek means the Destroyer" (Ἀπολλύων, Apollyon).  
  
**_Mammon._  **  
Mammon in the New Testament of the Bible is commonly thought to mean money, material wealth, or any entity that promises wealth, and is associated with the greedy pursuit of gain. "You cannot serve both God and mammon." In the Middle Ages it was often personified as a deity and sometimes included in the seven princes of Hell.  
  
**_Belphegor._** __  
In demonology, Belphegor is a demon, and one of the seven princes of Hell, who "helps" people make discoveries. He seduces people by suggesting to them ingenious inventions that will make them rich. According to some 16th-century demonologists, his power is stronger in April. Bishop and witch-hunter Peter Binsfeld believed that Belphegor tempts by means of laziness. Also, according to Peter Binsfeld's Binsfeld's Classification of Demons, Belphegor is the chief demon of the deadly sin known as Sloth in Christian tradition.  
  
**_Asmodeus._**  
Asmodeus is the demon of lust and is therefore responsible for twisting people's sexual desires, as seen in the book of Tobias especially. He is also said to be here on Earth after millions of years in hell.


End file.
